


The Veretian Flytrap

by Just_Another_Day



Series: The Veretian Flytrap [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Smut, Gender politics, Hate to Love, Insane Wordcount, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), Series, Slow Burn, Snark, Strategy & Tactics, Violent Flirting, canon typical warnings apply, empowerment, implied/referenced child sexual assault, so much UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 175,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: The court treated it like a joke. His uncle told him it was a weakness. Laurent chose to listen to what Auguste had said it could be: an advantage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains spoilers for everything up to and including The Summer Palace. The relevant warnings as tagged are more or less canon-typical in tone and content. FYI, the attempted rape mentioned in the tags is not between the main pairing, which is 100% consensual, despite canon and despite this being A/B/O fic.

Auguste was the first to notice. Laurent didn't realise at the time just how important that would ultimately turn out to be.

Dismounting from his horse, Laurent wiped away the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow. It had been a hard and relatively close race, but Auguste had of course won, because he hated how Laurent glared at him balefully whenever he tried to let Laurent beat him (and Laurent could always tell, because Auguste was ridiculously transparent). As Laurent brushed past his brother to hand the reins over to a servant, Auguste audibly gulped in a breath and his body jerked back ever so slightly, as if involuntarily. But his expression when Laurent frowned up at him wasn't one of repulsion, as if Laurent had unknowingly done something to drive him away; he merely looked surprised.

"You're growing up, that's all," Auguste offered, as if that were any kind of proper explanation. "It's hard to believe. It seems like only yesterday you were blunting my sword by dragging it along the ground because you just had to prove wrong anyone who said it weighed too much for such a little boy."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Well we can't all have been practically born with a sword attached to our arms," he griped without feeling.

Auguste smiled and managed to ruffle Laurent's hair despite Laurent ineffectually batting his hand away. And all was normal once more, as if Auguste had never pulled back from him.

Laurent didn't think on that brief moment of strangeness again until a full week later. After the evening meal, Father gave Laurent his full attention for the first time in what seemed like years. His eyes narrowed, he inhaled deeply, and then he sighed in disappointment. 

"It's probably just as well," King Aleron clearly forced himself to say after a moment, as if he had resolved to look on the bright side. "It could actually be more beneficial to Vere's interests if we can match you with an Alpha rather than being limited to the class of wife who would settle for a second son. You're certainly pretty enough for powerful men to consider you a catch."

It was Laurent's turn to balk, momentarily confused. The rising whispers he could hear bandied between courtiers quickly cleared that up, though. Their mouths tarred him with an unwanted label.

"You knew," Laurent accused as soon as he found Auguste after Father had shooed him away. "You figured out that I'm an Omega and you didn't warn me."

"Warn you?" Auguste repeated blankly. "About what?"

"That my life is over!" Laurent cried.

Auguste unexpectedly chuckled. It was a mark of Laurent's faith in his beloved older brother that he didn't even for a second register the possibility that Auguste's laughter might be mean-spirited at his expense. "Laurent, it's not like that. Just give it time. You'll see it's hardly the end of the world. I expect very little will change, in fact. You'll just have the whole court even more firmly wrapped around your finger than ever. Not to mention that the commons will all fall over themselves just trying to catch a glimpse of their beautiful Omega Prince."

Despite Auguste's predictions, though, things did change, and quickly. Courtiers who had more or less ignored Laurent as the far less important spare heir now suddenly treated him like some fascinating exotic creature. Part of Laurent dearly wanted to complain, but he bit it back. Father maintained that whining was childish, and apparently Laurent was growing up now, after all. He didn't know what protesting would achieve anyway. Perhaps he should just acknowledge that this thing that he would never have chosen for himself had somehow been all it took to reduce him to nothing more than a spectacle.

But Auguste seemed so sure that it didn't matter. And if there was anything that Laurent himself was sure about, it was that Auguste's words could be relied upon.

He had to remember that Auguste's first reaction upon realising what Laurent was hadn't been disappointment or disgust. Neither had he displayed any particular increase in brotherly protectiveness in the face of Laurent's newly-revealed weakness. Auguste didn't even seem to accept that his baby brother could now never grow into some strong warrior like him, an Alpha, or even a shrewd strategiser like their uncle, a Beta.

Auguste simply told Laurent without reservations: "You can find your own path."

Not everyone was disposed to agree with that, of course.

"Father's determined to marry me off as soon as possible," Laurent informed Auguste. He tugged demonstratively at the ridiculously bright brocaded silk Laurent's servants had bound him into that morning. Father had apparently insisted on it so that he could spend most of the day parading Laurent before a plethora of prospective Alphas. 

"Even Mother tried to remind him that I've only just barely turned thirteen, but Father seems to think he'll be able to get a better deal before I fully present. I bet by the end of the month I'll be shipped off with some Patran Alpha Lord four times my age. It'll probably be someone who's dull and stupid and deathly ugly, and who won't even let me just read my books in peace, but of course none of that will matter to Father."

Laurent tried to sound scornful and uncaring, like his Mother often did when she had to speak to courtiers Laurent knew she didn't like, but he had to admit he hadn't quite mastered the skill yet. Anyway, his affected air of indifference was hardly going to be very believable when he was on the verge of tears.

It was as if Laurent was suddenly just property to be signed away in payment to whichever political ally could offer the best trade routes and the most extra military support. He didn't understand it. He was a _prince_ , only two steps away from being a king himself. Had everyone forgotten that overnight?

"No matter how determined Father is, I imagine he'll quickly find you're even more determined not to go along with his plans," Auguste teased. 

The tears that had been brewing didn't ever manage to squeeze themselves free. Instead, for the first time on that arduous and humiliating day, Laurent's lips quirked upwards.

"I'll scare off any Alpha," Laurent swore. "You watch. I'll make it so none of them will so much as try to look at me."

Auguste grinned. "I think that would be quite an accomplishment. You'll have to be very scary indeed to pull it off. Perhaps you'll even have to put down the books once in a while and learn to handle your sword better than any Alpha if you really want to come across as more fearsome than handsome."

"Ha," Laurent replied. "Be careful what you wish for. Then I'd be able to beat you too."

"I will be very proud to see you grow up and surpass me," Auguste told him. Laurent's chest burned a little at how genuine the words sounded. 

Never mind Father, or the court, or any of the Alphas who were already starting to regard him as a hungry beast looked at meat. Auguste at least would always be on his side, Omega or not. Auguste believed in him. And Laurent wasn't about to let Auguste down any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter contains attempted rape and references to past child sexual abuse. Future chapters will also occasionally make reference to these or similar events. It's not much more graphic than what happens in Captive Prince canon, but if it's likely to bother you, please don't read any further.

The clash of steel against steel drove him back slightly, and his footing slipped.

For a moment he was in another place, facing a far more menacing opponent. He gasped as much at the unexpected sense memory as at the pain of hitting the ground. 

He hadn't been close enough to the front lines to have witnessed it himself, of course, but after having the events described to him in horrific detail, his nightmares had run with it. In so many ways, he might as well have been there. He might as well have been the one who was struck down.

The swordmaster, Valere, drew back and allowed him to recover instead of pressing his advantage.

"Don't do that," Laurent reprimanded his opponent, dragging his body back up off the ground and trying to pull himself together. It had been over a year since he'd allowed himself to make such an obvious mistake of balance. That had been one of the first things he'd worked on when he took up the sword in earnest, after all, for he knew too well how perilous it could be to stumble at the wrong moment during a fight. And though there were few advantages in a fight he could claim as an Omega, Laurent had at least always been able to boast superior balance and speed. Normally. Though not today, apparently. It wasn't even rough ground, either. There was no excuse, or at least not one Laurent cared to consider too closely.

"My enemies won't let up when they gain the upper hand," Laurent bit out. "Practising is useless to me if it doesn’t at the very least adequately prepare me for that. Next time, keep going."

He said 'my enemies', but it was 'Damianos' echoing in the still air, and Valere couldn't help but be aware of it. Those few people who were aware of Laurent's private efforts in the indoor training ring all knew precisely why he was so adamant about bettering himself with the sword.

"Again," Laurent ordered.

In a rare moment of non-compliance with his Prince, Valere mildly suggested, "I think that's enough for one day. My knees aren't what they used to be, you understand," he added ruefully. It was true enough that he wasn't a young man. He'd already been passing his prime when he'd first started training Auguste. Valere's long years of service to Laurent's brother were precisely the reason Laurent trusted him to train him in turn, and had certainly mattered more to Laurent than whether age had limited how swiftly the man could move. But the excuse of the pains of age and exertion still rung hollow today, when Valere himself had barely had to do any work, while Laurent had sweat pouring off him and felt like he'd run to Chastillon and back without a break.

Laurent's cheeks burned. He knew he hadn't been fighting like himself, and had in fact felt somewhat off for days. Clearly the swordmaster knew it too. It was humiliating for Valere to have to call a premature end to their practice at all, let alone step in with a self-effacing lie to help Laurent himself save face. Auguste would never have required such delicate treatment. 

No Alpha would, he couldn't help but think.

If Laurent insisted, Valere would have reluctantly re-engaged with him. Laurent grimaced and sheathed his sword instead. When he departed the training area, Laurent hadn't completely regathered his composure, at least not to his usual exacting standards of control.

"I heard he's defective," one of the guards up a nearby hallway could be heard saying. "Nineteen and still not fully presented. It's not natural."

"He doesn't _smell_ defective," another leered. "He smells damn near ripe. I bet he'll pop any day now, and then he won't be so high and mighty and untouchable."

Laurent would sorely have liked to round the corner and put them in their place, but lately it seemed as though if Laurent bothered to lash out each time someone audibly coveted him or talked about him like he were a tavern whore, he'd have time for nothing else. He had far bigger worries to deal with.

But it was harder to tell himself that they were just words when Laurent suspected the second speaker might be right. That strange discombobulation, as well as the recent exponential increase in the speculative looks he received from passing Alphas, both pointed towards a specific conclusion that Laurent would prefer not to think about, but couldn't quite put from his mind. 

He was long since due for his first heat, and neither his own sheer will-power nor the lingering impacts of five-year-old grief and shame could delay the inevitable forever.

"I gather you might be expecting a significant change in short order," Uncle said that evening. 

"Perhaps," Laurent replied cagily.

Gossip must have reached the Regent's ears, for he couldn't personally have smelled anything different about Laurent with his inadequate Beta's nose. Though given how Laurent had swirled the food around his plate without actually bringing his fork to his lips all night, Uncle wouldn't have missed his obvious lack of appetite and what it likely meant.

"I'm sure we could spare you from the court here in Arles for a few weeks so you can retreat to one of the forts until you're feeling better," the Regent suggested, sounding every inch the concerned and doting uncle. "It's simply not safe for you here. There are so many Alphas wandering around in this palace. I'd hate to even think what might happen if one of them were to lose control at such a vulnerable time."

Uncle clearly _had_ thought of it, as had Laurent: a Crown Prince made physically vulnerable and politically useless for months on end, and then a bastard child at the end of it to serve as permanent and undeniable evidence of Laurent's lack of fitness to rule. Yes, he was sure Uncle would be _deeply_ saddened by such a turn of events. Just as he would surely lament if Laurent left the castle in a bid to stay safe during his heat and some Alpha thugs should ironically beset him on the road, or even manage to get to him at his presumed-secure destination. 

"Thank you for the kind offer. But you do keep telling me I need to learn to take responsibility for myself," Laurent said. "And there are Alphas everywhere in Vere. So I'm sure I'd be safest in my own palace."

The Regent liked to think of this as _his_ palace, of course, and in the ways that mattered it currently was. The reminder that Laurent would accede it soon enough and make his uncle obsolete must have stung. Uncle's face gave nothing of that away, but Laurent could read him all the same. Even when the man smiled slightly, it was obvious to Laurent that there was no friendliness in the expression. That smile was a foreboding omen, saying: on your own head be it.

Two days later, when Laurent's body finally started throbbing with the first signs of readiness, when his thighs went so embarrassingly weak that it made his ability to function during his last training session look robust by comparison, it wasn't even really a surprise that it took only moments for one of the Regent's guardsmen to materialise, as if he'd been waiting. It hardly mattered, of course, that Laurent was situated inside his own private rooms, countless hallways away from anywhere the Regent's Guard had any right to be stationed. Some seemingly reasonable explanation for the guard's presence would surely be conjured after the fact. The probable death of the two men of Laurent's Prince's Guard who at that very moment should have been guarding his apartments would likely also be written off as some unrelated incident. And so somehow the only person who would come out of this looking poorly would surely be Laurent himself for not taking better precautions when they were offered to him.

That was how Uncle worked.

"Your Highness," the Alpha guard panted once he'd shouldered his way through the door. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes were wild, even though it was so early in Laurent's heat that his scent would barely be spiking yet. By contrast, the Alpha musk was unmistakably pungent. Laurent thankfully wasn't far gone enough to find it anything but repulsive, for now.

"Remember that," Laurent warned. "Recall that I am your Prince, and rethink taking another step."

The guard, in true Alpha fashion, did not take that moment to think at all. Instead, Laurent found himself quickly pressed against the wall by a bulkier form than his own. The filigree dug into his spine and his wrists were gripped against the stone above his head before he had time to reach for the knife at his belt. Laurent cursed his own shaking body. Any other week he'd have had this swine laid out flat just as soon as he'd breathed the same air as him. He certainly would never have been allowed to get near enough to touch Laurent this way, if only Laurent's legs weren't nearly collapsing from beneath him.

That didn't stop Laurent from at least trying to struggle.

"Relax," the guard said, pressing their hips together and leaning in close enough to be able to kiss him if Laurent hadn't turned his face away in disgust. "There's no point in fighting. Anyway, you'll enjoy this. It's what you were born for."

Laurent remembered hot breath in his ear long ago, saying, "You're so beautiful. You were made for this." He shuddered in place, but definitely not from arousal. For a moment, he might have been thirteen again.

But he wasn't. He was older and stronger, and he was willing to do whatever he had to do to prevent that from happening again.

Instead of snarling at the guard, when Laurent bared his teeth it was in a calculatedly beckoning smile. "Well come on, then," he forced himself to say. "Show me how much of an Alpha you really are."

The idiot, keen to comply, let Laurent's wrists go to fumble eagerly at the ties of his pants. Not a moment later those uncoordinated fingers spasmed and fell limply away. His whole body listed to the side. As he hit the ground, the impact pushed the knife even further up under his ribs. His last gasps were desperate and reddened with blood.

"And that's the kind of Omega I really am, you filth," Laurent said to unhearing ears.

Laurent kicked the body away from him with his boot, and then slid slowly to the floor when it seemed that was the last straw for his legs. 

He dragged himself across the room and up into a somewhat respectable sitting position on the edge of his bed before calling for a servant. The girl who arrived looked near to fainting with terror at the sight of the dead man and the blood pooling on Laurent's floor.

He calmly told the servant to fetch more guards; his own this time, not the Regent's under any circumstances. "Best make sure they send only Betas as well," Laurent advised her. "Tell whichever of my guards you find these exact words: the next Alpha who nears this room will be buried at this one's side."

He doubted the girl would relay his words with the same steely tone Laurent used. Apparently the seriousness of the message was conveyed nonetheless, for it was a group of Laurent's Beta guards that fetched the body. They also quickly wiped away enough of the blood that at least Laurent's eyes wouldn't be constantly drawn to the bright red beacon of it over the next few days spent stuck in this room. 

There was some hesitance to then leave him alone in the room after his close call, but the guards had to content themselves with Laurent ordering them into the hallway outside his door instead. Laurent didn't even want anyone to see him now, let alone once Laurent's control had inevitably fallen in tatters.

It might have been different, once. Laurent imagined a time when Auguste, showing restraint beyond the capabilities of any other Alpha in Arles, would have been able to take these last moments before Laurent's body gave fully into his first heat to be by his side. He would have pushed Laurent's damp hair out of his face and kissed his forehead affectionately, full of reassurances that this would be all right even if it didn't feel that way. Auguste would undoubtedly then have insisted on standing among the men watching the hallway outside, more than willing to act as a common guard for potentially days on end just so he could be certain that his little brother was entirely safe for the duration.

If tears dampened Laurent's pillow then, he blamed it on the sudden painful cramping of his body, signalling it was properly gearing up.

Laurent spent the next three days writhing in discomfort and cursing so vehemently and loudly that each and every one of the rotating cycle of Beta guards outside his door were probably made to blush. He spent it by turns shivering and feeling like he would die from overheating. He spent it begging, both silently and otherwise, for something he couldn't imagine ever wanting under other circumstances.

But more importantly, he spent the rest of his first heat alone in his apartments, with no Alpha in sight.


	3. Chapter 3

When Laurent emerged from his rooms, he was surprised that the inevitable whispers preceding and following him everywhere weren't solely focused on the more lurid aspects of his heat, or on how even if he'd made it through this one alone, the next would likely be spent being ridden hard by an Alpha. Oh, that kind of talk was hardly non-existent. It was, however, at least interspersed among awestruck speculation about the guard who strolled into the Prince's rooms full of Alpha cockiness and yet was carried out an empty corpse. 

Many suggested that Laurent had simply had a moment of luck. They were unable to believe an Omega could physically best an Alpha, especially during heat. Laurent, who for now preferred to keep his skills somewhat under wraps, didn't correct them. It was enough that people no longer seemed as certain that he would just roll over for any Alpha who looked his way.

That didn't stop Alphas from testing his boundaries, and his patience. 

Those in his Prince's Guard, loyal though they might have been, had never been so deferential that it prevented them from describing how they'd like to fuck him (if only trying it wouldn't involve risking damage to certain favoured body parts, they bemoaned). They now talked about it even more often, more openly and more crudely than they had before his heat, which was truly saying something. Honestly, did no one in this palace realise that Laurent had working ears?

If his Guard pondered over whether heat had somehow made their Prince less capable or less threatening, though, they at least seemed willing to heed the terse reminder that Laurent gave them.

"I asked you to spar with me, not to lunge towards the other side of the ring whenever I get too close," Laurent snapped at Remi, who was one of his youngest guards, and (not coincidentally) who also happened to be an Alpha. "If you're so desperate to avoid fighting me, get out of my sight and consider yourself dismissed from the Prince's Guard. I have no use for guardsmen who are unwilling to use their weapons in combat."

Remi had his ass handed to him in the end, but it definitely wasn't because he'd gone easy on Laurent. The other members of the Guard watched this display and, thankfully, learned from it.

The Alpha courtiers were far more difficult to deal with. It would be a little awkward, after all, for Laurent to go around challenging _them_ to fights just to show that he wasn't some helpless Omega to be doted upon. 

"I can carry my own book," Laurent said, utterly unimpressed. This must have been at least the tenth time that one of the courtiers had tried to make his life 'better' or 'easier' by offering him use of their pets or by trying to themselves relieve him of tasks so utterly basic a small child could accomplish them with ease, but which Laurent now apparently shouldn't be expected to do himself.

Lord Josce's second son, Julien, seemed reluctant to remove his grip on the book entirely, as if worried Laurent would falter if he had to take on the full weight of it. At the sight of Laurent's scathing glare, his pale skin went so red that it made even the darkest of his freckles fade into relative obscurity. He bowed low to Laurent before ducking away with his proverbial tail between his legs. Though not without sneaking an admiring look back at Laurent despite his embarrassment, Laurent noticed with exasperation. The other courtiers gathered nearby burst into laughter at Julien's expense as he joined their group. Sadly, most of them were no better. 

Case in point: two hours later, Laurent was telling one of the men who'd earlier stood in that laughing group, Armel, "When I said you could sit near me during the performance, I didn't mean for you to practically climb into my lap… And did you just _sniff my hair_?"

Even Councillor Guion seemed to think Laurent's presentation automatically put them on friendly terms. Never mind that they'd previously had no time for each other outside Council meetings. Even in those, Guion had paid so little attention to Laurent's opinions and best interests that it made his true loyalties and opinions about Omegas laughably obvious. He was exactly the kind of weak but politically well-placed Alpha that Laurent had once worried Father might have matched him with. Every encounter with him outside the Council chambers left Laurent feeling vaguely unclean. The worst of it was when Guion insisted on 'escorting' Laurent around for the entirety of an afternoon, until Laurent finally found a way to extricate himself without making it obvious to the entire court that he was snubbing a Councillor. The fact that Guion thankfully never actually managed to touch Laurent during that time was not due to lack of trying, but was down to a mixture of Laurent's quick reflexes, his quelling looks, and, he had to admit, even the intervention of Laurent's Guard. 

"It's amusing to watch them lose all decorum and common sense around you," Vannes said one evening when they were alone in the gardens but for her pet, who was simultaneously acting as chaperone and lookout. 

"Amusing for _you_ , perhaps," Laurent complained.

"Yes exactly. Your reaction just makes it even funnier."

"I live to be your entertainment," said Laurent dryly.

"You live for far more important things than that," Vannes acknowledged, turning more serious. "But you're treading a dangerous path now. I trust you're not going to make me regret all the work I've done in the past year by throwing your lot in with some handsome Alpha who'll make you into nothing more than a puppet on the throne."

"That," Laurent replied firmly, "will never happen. None of them will ever be allowed to get close enough to lay a finger on me."

"No," Vannes agreed. "None of the Alphas here in Arles, at least. In Vask, the women would refuse to let such men anywhere near the coupling fires. Most of them are too pathetic to do more than smile and bare their necks while you rip out their throats."

True. Most of the Alpha courtiers did little more than gather around like flies attracted by honey, unwilling to be waved away easily even when Laurent proved himself to be acerbic rather than sweet.

Laurent still found it hard to accept that he wouldn't manage to turn them all away eventually. They'd surely only be on the receiving end of his scorn for so long before they got the message. But somehow the number of Alphas approaching him in supplication actually grew by the day, as if overwhelming him with options might be the key to enticing Laurent to choose someone. It seemed another Alpha was waiting around every corner these days, and they all treated him as if he could do no wrong. Not because he was their Prince, but almost as if he'd unknowingly bewitched them into mindless admiration.

Auguste had predicted this, Laurent remembered. He'd known that Laurent as a fully presented Omega had the potential to be devastating to the Alphas of the court. It seemed that was the case even when Laurent was trying his hardest _not_ to have that kind of effect.

Apparently Uncle, underestimating his Omega nephew, hadn't been equally able to foresee it. He could tell the Regent was fuming when Laurent was called before the Council and was confronted with Uncle's barely contained countenance of frustration.

"It's demeaning, you strutting about the halls like a harlot," the Regent chastised, apparently referring to Laurent's gall in walking like a normal human being. "More importantly, it's disruptive to everything the Regency and this Council needs to achieve. Half the Alphas in the region are so busy tripping over themselves to kiss the ground you walk on that nothing is getting done around here."

"Only half?" Laurent asked.

The Regent scowled. "Well, I think this would be a perfect time for you to rethink doing your duty to defend the lands running alongside Delfeur. Some time alone with a company of Beta soldiers would give you opportunity to mature properly into your newly presented status, and you could divert your energies into service for your country instead of trying to turn heads."

The last time they'd discussed the need for Laurent to lead a campaign at the border, some months ago now, the Regent had let Laurent's refusal pass with what might to a less experienced eye have seemed like good grace. That was probably because half of the Council had voiced relief that an Omega wouldn't be forced to engage in (never mind command) any kind of real fighting, even if it was just the scuffles that usually popped up along the border. Pressing for that against the Council's wishes would have been folly then. 

Besides, the Council's explicit concern about the idea of an Omega acting as a commander had undoubtedly been enough to satisfy the Regent for a time. Every time such thoughts were expressed, it was another strike against any perception of Laurent's suitability to take the throne once he reached his majority.

Laurent would have liked to pretend he didn't care what the Council, or anyone for that matter, thought of either his character or his abilities. However, his gender made taking such a position difficult. An Alpha or Beta heir apparent could rest easy in the knowledge that he could just bide his time and replace the Council members with those loyal to him upon his ascension. An Omega prince whom the Council believed was too weak to rule, on the other hand, might never be given the opportunity to step into the role of King at all.

Laurent needed the backing of the Council. He didn't currently have it. He likely never would, unless something changed dramatically.

"You're right, Uncle."

Laurent didn't know who was more surprised at this pronouncement: the Council, the Regent, or Laurent himself. 

He could see the beginnings of the path he would have to take, though, and forged onwards not-quite-blindly (though still closer to that than he would prefer).

"It's past time for me to prove that being an Omega will in no way impede my ability to act towards the best interests of Vere," Laurent continued, hating it but knowing as Councillors Herode and Chelaut nodded thoughtfully that it was true. The Council, and the Veretian people more generally, _did_ need to be shown. 

They shouldn't. Laurent's fitness should never have been in question. Auguste's reaction had shown him from those first days of knowing Laurent was an Omega that his gender shouldn't make a difference. Laurent had clung to that certainty ever since, unwilling to let it die alongside his brother. His own subjects shouldn't need some display of Laurent's worth to be willing to believe in their Prince, but facts were facts: they did. So Laurent would give them one.

The Council finally allowed Laurent to pry himself free of them with the promise that he would start preparing a contingent of men to take with him to the border and then report back. 

Laurent was almost entirely unsurprised to find a shadowy figure hovering not far from the outside of the Council assembly room. He fully expected it to be some Alpha, perhaps with a dark purpose on his mind, waiting to catch Laurent in a moment where there were no members of his Prince's Guard handy to intercede if and when things got ugly. Such an Alpha would undoubtedly get a shock when Laurent established that he didn't need his Guard to take care of a single attacker. 

Even in the low torchlight, though, no rational man could mistake the outline of such a slight figure for that of an Alpha.

"I heard you got reamed out," Nicaise declared when Laurent gave him his attention. He lounged indolently against the wall, looking for all the world like he was the intended focal point around which the rich decorative patterns of the tapestry he was leaning against had originally been designed. Anyone who looked no further than that picturesque and cherubic impression of him would undoubtedly come out the worse for it. Laurent was not so short-sighted.

"Not at all," Laurent answered. "In fact, if it's gossip you're standing out here waiting for, I'll tell you that the Council was surprisingly sympathetic to my position. But I won't bore you with the details. I'm sure you'll be forced to endure a lengthy rant about it soon enough anyway."

"Who cares about the Council? I meant during your heat," Nicaise said smugly. "The courtiers were saying that it only actually lasted a day, but that no less than five of your own guards fucked you so hard one after the other the whole way through that it took you another two days before you could even stand, let alone drag yourself into the public eye."

"Hmm, I wonder who could possibly have started such a rumour," Laurent said sarcastically.

"Not that it really matters either way," Nicaise added bitterly. "Even if you avoided that fate once, you'll have heats every few months for _years_. They'll get you eventually. You think you're on top of the world because a few dumb Alphas got a sniff of you and liked it enough to shower you with compliments? Ha. Open your eyes. You became useless and disgraced the moment they first smelled what you were. If you somehow haven't figured that out yet then you'll know it well enough when you start popping out bastards again and again and you're thrown to the wolves as a result."

Laurent narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Nicaise must be thirteen by now, the age Laurent had been when his own scent had shifted. "Do I sense some misdirected anxiety? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll turn out to be a Beta." That was a lie, but it was for once kindly intended.

"Fuck you," Nicaise shot back, his voice shaking slightly in a way that couldn't be mistaken for the breaking that accompanied oncoming adulthood; Nicaise still appeared to have some time before that began, anyway. Coupled with the sudden increase in how palely his skin glowed in the dim light, it suggested Laurent was right on the mark.

Going by appearance alone, Nicaise was certainly no Alpha. In another lifetime, or perhaps even just a different country, Nicaise would have had a lot to look forward to if he presented as an Omega. He likely would have been far more of a force to be reckoned with at court than Laurent, having learned early in life to rely on both his appearance and his ability to manipulate. Unlike Laurent, he wouldn't have rolled his eyes at the Alphas' attempts to woo him, but would have accepted their interest and willingly captured them in his thrall. He would have been showered with so many gifts that he could almost have lived like a noble himself for the remainder of his life. 

But with the taboo against bastards, Omegas were not kept as pets in Vere, end of story. And there was really only one future for young, friendless and orphaned Omegas who already had a history as extensive and varied as that of a court pet. Nicaise would almost undoubtedly survive it. Laurent had long since seen that he had that kind of grit about him. That life, however, would be even less kind to him than his current one.

If Nicaise didn't already dread any signs of his body's maturation for other reasons, that possibility alone would still have been enough for him to wish that ages fourteen or fifteen could be put off indefinitely. 

"You probably have as much as a year or two before you have to worry about that. I'll be back in Arles by then," Laurent promised.

"What difference does that make? We'd just end up side by side on our backs in the lowest whorehouse. I'd rather take my chances alone than with you."

Laurent shrugged, seeming nonchalant. "If you say so."

"I'm glad you're leaving," Nicaise claimed. "And I'd be happier if you didn't come back at all. I'm sick of the sight of you anyway."

"I know," Laurent said simply. He'd like to think that the boy realised that the conversation they were having went deeper than the actual words being said, at least as far as Laurent was concerned.

"Your Highness." Laurent turned to find Jord approaching down the hallway. News that the Council meeting had ended must have travelled. 

"Did you wish to return to your apartments?" Jord asked solicitously.

"Yes," Laurent replied. "I think we're more than done here." 

Nicaise's mouth scowled at him as Laurent left, but somehow the negative emotion didn't quite reach his wide eyes.

Jord was a silent escort all the way back to Laurent's rooms. Perhaps he was at least half as aware as Laurent of how many keen ears the walls of Arles had of late. As the guards waiting in the hallway leading to Laurent's apartments fell into step behind them for the short remaining distance and then took their place at the door, Laurent beckoned for Jord to follow him inside. Alpha or not, Laurent trusted that Jord had at least enough self-control not to take advantage when the scent of his last heat had long since dissipated and another wasn't due for quite some time.

"Trouble?" Jord asked as soon as the heavy doors were drawn closed behind them.

"When isn't there?" Laurent responded, trying not to sound as tired as he felt. "Nicaise wishing he could verbally cut a thousand little slices into my skin is the least of our problems at the moment. I've just committed us to commencing a campaign at the border. We leave in a week."

Jord didn't look alarmed by this unexpected news, per se, but his eyebrows did appear to be furrowed.

"I thought you had avoided that calling in the past for a reason," said Jord.

"Yes, well, there's been a change of plan."

"Am I allowed to know what the new plan is, Your Highness?"

"I'm sure I'll inform you of the details as soon as they become pertinent," Laurent said. 

At least it sounded better than saying: 'I'll let you know just as soon as I stop panicking and start figuring out how the hell I'm going to get us all through this.'


	4. Chapter 4

When the Council was informed that Laurent had sent messengers to Varenne and Marche bidding the troops there to pack up and join him on his campaign, Councillor Audin actually choked on his own spit.

"The troops in those regions are almost all Alphas," Councillor Herode protested while Audin was still trying to recover from his shocked coughing fit.

"Yes, obviously," Laurent agreed, sounding bored. "As are the active troops almost everywhere in Vere, since most military-oriented Betas usually go for more sedate Guard positions instead. I may not have led a campaign before, but surely you don't think I could possibly be unaware of that basic fact? It doesn't matter either way. I can lead Alphas just as well as Betas."

Every single one of the Councillors' faces clearly announced how much they doubted that.

"But you won't even have a chaperone," Audin was finally able to say, utterly scandalised. "You'll be alone in a sea of Alphas. It's unthinkable."

That was a bit overdramatic, Laurent thought. "Half my Prince's Guard is made up of Betas, you might recall. Besides, why should I even need them to chaperone?" Laurent asked. "I'll hardly be letting Alphas anywhere near me during the only time it'd be an issue."

"Laurent, Laurent. Obviously you're still too naïve to understand this, but many men won't wait for an invitation at the best of times, let alone when you're most vulnerable," Uncle pointed out condescendingly. "Sometimes you won't get to choose." 

Laurent's throat felt uncomfortably tight for a long moment. Uncle knew better than anyone just how well he'd already learned that lesson, more than once.

Of course, the Council members just nodded at these 'wise' words. Everyone knew that an Omega in heat anywhere near Alphas only ended one way, after all. It was too dangerous, they said. They beseeched Laurent to rethink his plans.

"It's an unnecessary risk," Uncle concluded. "As you said, Betas with fighting ability are plentiful within the Guard. I'd be happy to loan you a number of my men."

Of course he would.

"You're too kind, Uncle," Laurent said. "But obviously I can't ask you to send away your men in the kind of numbers I'd need for a proper campaign. What if our enemies should get word that the Prince of Vere has taken half the standing defensive force away from Arles? It would be like begging for an opportunistic attack. I'd certainly hate to leave you and the palace unprotected. _That_ would be an unnecessary risk, when I've already got men to spare in my own lands."

Several of the Councillors seemed to hesitantly agree with that sentiment. Arles was not a fortress, after all. Its people were its best defence.

Still, Uncle continued protesting, long and loud. Laurent was courting disaster, he said, and making a farce of his border duty.

"This _is_ my duty," Laurent rebutted. "I've heard it said in court: a king incapable of leading Alphas would be no king at all." He didn't doubt who the court had been talking about at the time, either. "The soldiers I'd have to command in real battle would largely be Alphas. It might be helpful to learn how to work with them now rather than in the middle of a war, don't you think? And I doubt the Alpha troops will be more likely than the Council to just take my word for it that I'm capable of leading them. Apparently everyone requires me to prove it. I’m prepared to do that."

Perhaps it was because they were embarrassed at being called out for their lack of faith in their Prince. Perhaps it was just that they were aware that Laurent's point was entirely valid and to continue arguing against it would either make them appear foolish and short-sighted, or would reveal certain things about their loyalties that they'd prefer not to be aired. Either way, for once the Council ultimately took Laurent's side over the Regent's, if grudgingly.

"Don't fret, Uncle," Laurent said once they were alone. "It will only be for a few months."

"You're right, of course," Uncle acknowledged. "I'm sure you won't be out there long at all."

Laurent felt a frisson of unease at his tone.

"And in the meantime, I hope you enjoy your little victory right up until you're raped and bred by a hundred Alphas the moment you go into heat in their midst," Uncle whispered harshly. 

Laurent recoiled. Uncle was usually so good at spinning silk with his words that sometimes Laurent almost thought he might have been imagining the underlying ill-will and bitterness after all. But here was proof, finally on display, even if it was for Laurent's ears only. 

"Perhaps I would have to worry about that if there were just a few," Laurent replied, quickly recovering his composure. "But over a hundred of them? You think they'll all patiently line up for their turn?"

"You'll be lucky if they don't take you several at a time," Uncle countered. 

"Then perhaps," Laurent said pointedly, "you should be wishing me luck, _Uncle_."

Uncle simply sneered and stalked away.

In truth, this crack in Uncle's veneer actually buoyed Laurent's confidence in his decision. If the Regent believed his own words, he should have been happy to see Laurent putting himself in an untenable position. Instead, Uncle was acting thwarted.

Of course, that could make things more immediately perilous for Laurent. Based on his reaction, whatever Uncle had planned when he'd suggested Laurent should go to the border would potentially need to be revised now. That made him more unpredictable.

In the morning, as Laurent handed the Captain's badge to Jord and watched the rest of his Prince's Guard assemble, he told Jord, "We ride hard for Varenne."

Jord glanced around at their small number and nodded his understanding. 

Somewhat to Laurent's surprise, though, they weren't waylaid on the road when they were most at risk, before they could increase the number of soldiers who might potentially protect Laurent and before they could make it out of Uncle's centre of influence. They arrived at the arranged meeting point completely without incident. Had he shocked Uncle so much that he hadn't had time to put a new plan into place? That didn't seem possible. More likely Uncle was trying to lull Laurent into a false sense of security. Laurent kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Despite his best efforts to remain tense and vigilant, though, Laurent found himself enjoying riding among his new troops, even if most of them were rowdy Alphas.

In a way, Varenne felt more like home than Arles, for 'home' to Laurent had never stopped meaning riding over open, rolling grasslands just a length behind Auguste's horse, in high spirits and with the wind whipping through his hair. He was hardly only one of two riders this time, as he led a nearly two-hundred-strong procession of troops south towards Toutaine. But with the locals eagerly celebrating upon first catching sight of the starburst banners rolling into the region, not to mention the troops who'd joined him in Varenne donning the corresponding livery with clear pride, it had still felt like Auguste rode with him.

Even though Varenne belonged to Laurent as heir, Laurent had feared its closeness to Arles meant Uncle's sway here would be oppressive. But that nearness also meant Laurent's father and Auguste had both regularly spent weeks at a time here. One of the older men, Andri, even recollected a story about a toddling Laurent sneaking away from all the dull courtly talking and instead having a great time digging up half of the man's garden looking for worms. Memories were less short and selective outside the capital, it seemed, and the five years since power transferred to the Regent didn't seem like so long to some. Most of these men had served under Auguste's command, and they would have again in a heartbeat. Laurent knew that the troops who joined them at Varenne didn't ride for Laurent's sake, but for Auguste and for honour. That was enough for now. He could build on it in time.

It was certainly more than could have been said of whatever Betas Uncle would have chosen for him. Laurent would willingly take casual dismissiveness and the uncertain risk to Laurent's person that these Alphas brought with them over sly toadying to his face and undermining behind his back, followed by sure betrayal. 

Though he had to admit that after their winding ride south-west finally brought them weeks later to Marche, where they met with the remaining troops, there were a few moments when Laurent found himself battling a headache and wondering with a great deal of frustration whether he'd made the right decision after all. 

The weather further south might have been undoubtedly warmer, but the people weren't, at least not towards Laurent. The political tightrope Laurent had to walk in recent years meant that most of the time he'd spent outside Arles since Marlas had necessarily been in Uncle's company, which certainly hadn't been conducive to building any kind of personal rapport with the too-distant men of Marche. They neither knew much of Laurent other than gossip, nor respected that he was more than just a young upstart Omega who happened to be born a prince. The starburst still meant something to them, Laurent could tell. But it was a more withdrawn kind of loyalty, as if they were waiting for a man of Auguste's stature to burst forth and embody the symbol once again, and Laurent just wasn't going to cut it for them.

These men, Laurent realised, while they might not be in Uncle's pocket, might if it came to it side with local Lords who probably were, because at least _they_ were familiar. If he hadn't potentially needed the numbers, it might have been simpler and safer for Laurent to ride straight from Varenne to Ravenel without pause.

Laurent refused to shy away from a bit of difficulty now, though. He'd made it through worse.

Tensions grew throughout the following fortnight on the way to the border, as did the ribald nature of the comments aimed in Laurent's direction. It seemed the influx of yet more Alpha dominance caused a spiralling pattern of one-upmanship. Loud comments about how Laurent's body looked leaning into the smooth rocking gait of his horse segued into how they would ride the Prince to the point of breaking him just as soon as they got him bent him over, and those were just the tamer versions he heard. It was nothing he hadn't been treated to before, but in the weeks between leaving Arles and arriving in Marche the level of it had dipped off, and Laurent had allowed himself to get used to these things at least being whispered rather than shouted drunkenly when Laurent was evidently right in their midst. And in a way it was worse than it had been in Arles anyway, because there was nowhere Laurent could go to retreat from it. Even in his private tent, the campfire talk was audible. 

In the end, pulling up at Ravenel was a relief, if for no other reason than just for the break in what was slowly becoming an unwanted routine. Though Laurent knew their arrival meant the real effort was about to begin.

Laurent didn't even ask the opinion of Lord Touars before ordering the tents to be lined up a short distance from the heavy stone of his fort's outer walls, just far enough away to be out of firing range if Ravenel should decide to turn arrows on them. It was a more openly confrontational approach than Laurent would usually prefer, but he wanted to see if he could provoke some honest reaction from Lord Touars.

But if Lord Touars objected, then he was politic enough not to say so. 

Their cold greeting upon Laurent's arrival inside Ravenel itself was telling, though. As was Lord Touars's failure to invite Laurent to stay inside the fort and take advantage of the finest luxuries Ravenel could offer, as would be customary for royalty and practically compulsory for any visiting noble Omega.

"Your accommodations have been comfortable, I hope," Lord Touars said, and when Laurent acknowledged they were, as much as anything portable could be, nothing further was said of it. Pointedly so. 

Well, Laurent thought, he _had_ been wishing that people would stop offering him condescending preferential treatment just because he was an Omega. Given the choice, he'd rather not be trapped inside by himself, surrounded by potential enemies. He'd had more than enough of that in the past few years.

Although continuing to sleep among the lines of soldiers' tents wasn't also without its problems.

The men patently assumed that Laurent bringing Alpha soldiers along instead of sticking to a Beta contingent meant he surely must be looking for someone to tumble him. These weren't like the palace Alphas, either, who were easy to at least temporarily divert with a warning glance or a sugar-coated suggestion of someplace else they should be at that moment. These men were in most cases battle-tested soldiers; they had started out daring and were only getting bolder. 

One soldier suggested Laurent might as well come back to his tent and let him get a leg over since, even though Laurent clearly wanted to give the impression that he was pure as snow, everyone already knew that was a lie. He was the first (and last) to actually dare to stroke a hand up Laurent's thigh, and he earned the chance to become an abject lesson.

In front of the crowded soldiers, Laurent handed the man his ass both verbally and physically in a duel of honour.

While the bleeding soldier practically crawled away in humiliation, having been turned out of camp entirely, Laurent warned the rest, "The next person who thinks to lay a hand on me without my express permission will lose that hand, and more." 

The men looked somewhat stunned, with the exception of Laurent's original Prince's Guard from Arles. They did not all necessarily look totally convinced by the display, though. 

Unlike his Prince's Guard, who were mostly Betas with no inbuilt sense of superiority over him, whom he'd had years to convince, and most of whom he'd shown more faith than they were used by choosing them despite all odds, these troops wouldn't fall in line without a literal fight.

As soon as he heard one of the men deeming his victory as luck, Laurent turned in his direction. 

"Would you care to wager on that?" Laurent offered the man, Corin. "A gold coin says I win if you spar with me."

There was a moment of collective disquiet at the idea of fighting their Prince for money, which instilled Laurent with a lot more confidence that if there were men among this number who'd been bought by Uncle, they at least seemed likely to be in the minority. Regardless, the men quickly decided that if it was the Prince himself offering gold to challenge him, they could see no dishonour in vying for it. The other soldiers shoved Corin forward to a chorus of catcalls. His grin was cocky as he readied his sword, looking like he already thought he'd won.

The Prince wouldn't triumph again, the soldiers all concluded. He was an Omega, they muttered amongst themselves, and their Prince, so his last opponent had of course been overly careful not to injure him, but Corin wouldn't go so easy on him with serious money on the line. And sure the Prince had demonstrated clear speed and cunning in the duel, but an Omega was _expected_ to be quick and wily in their own way. It was strength he lacked. In a battle that wasn't over in less than two minutes, they said, he'd be the one put to his knees.

They couldn't have picked words more likely to inspire him not to lose if they'd tried.

"That gold coin is still up for grabs," Laurent called out when Corin, disarmed and beaten, yielded. "Is there anyone else who thinks they can make some easy money?"

One defeat might be chance, but six in a row was no fluke. Especially when Laurent was no longer as fresh and quick for the sixth victory as he was at the first. No, he didn't have the strength of an Alpha, and never would. Even Laurent had to admit that. He beat them anyway, one after the other. 

After his show of prowess with the sword, Laurent's looks and scent stopped being the only traits that these soldiers talked about admiringly. Sadly, it didn't fix everything. Laurent hadn't expected it would. Alphas would still be Alphas, even after they'd been somewhat humbled.

Oh, they followed his orders during drills, even though they at first moaned for seemingly hours after the fact about how early he made them rise and how hard he'd pushed them. They even eventually reacted favourably when he chewed them out again and again about every tiny flaw he detected in their form. But Laurent was, in the end, still seen as an Omega Prince rather than just their Prince, full stop. They saw his body, golden hair and shining lips before they acknowledged his skill, intuition and leadership. That wouldn't change overnight.

It might not change at all, for he only ended up getting a few weeks to work on further altering their perceptions before his efforts were interrupted. 

The first Laurent knew of any problem was unrest in a village closest to Akielon territory. It was nothing major, more a matter of property damage than threat to life. That wasn't unusual in this area by any means, and his men quickly managed to sort out the aftermath. The only strange part was that no one knew who was responsible; Laurent would always suspect Akielos first and foremost, except that they certainly never minded taking full credit for such little irritations over the border in Vere, treaty or no treaty, and there was no sign of that here. 

Then there were attacks on tradesmen on the roads nearby to Ravenel, with no warning and, again, no clear culprit. That got Ravenel's full attention, and it was very clear who they thought was to blame for not stopping those attacks before they happened.

"Something's coming, isn't it?" Jord asked him.

Jord had clearly been aware that this was not meant to be the perfunctory duty that watching over the border usually would have been since the treaty was made at Marlas. He could see that how and why Laurent was sent out to the border was suspect. Every member of the Prince's Guard also knew well to be wary of the Regent and his guards, so the likely source of the danger could be no secret. But Jord nonetheless wasn't fully cognizant of the extent of the risk.

As it turned out, neither was Laurent.

Closely on the heels of those smaller problems, there were clear signs of a massive attack in the region. This time, however, it was just over the border in Akielos. And then Laurent understood.

Given that Uncle hadn't made any perceivable move against him in the nearly two months since he'd left Arles, Laurent had been increasingly certain that he was simply waiting for Laurent's heat to arrange another attempt like the one at the palace. Uncle had, after all, voiced concern for Laurent's safety on that count more than once in the Council's presence. He could hardly be blamed if Laurent hadn't heeded his Regent's good advice or his loving uncle's worries.

But just as the Regent had allowed himself to underestimate Laurent, Laurent had been short-sighted and still, somehow, believed his uncle had limits.

He hadn't thought until now that Uncle actually wanted him _dead_.

With a good portion of the Akielon army now likely set to march over the border straight at Laurent, though, that was the inevitable conclusion. A few hundred soldiers, loyal or not, weren't going to be enough to protect him from that. Even the larger force of men permanently stationed at Ravenel might not be of much assistance, as Laurent, even after weeks of probing, had yet to fully ascertain the extent of Lord Touars's loyalties. Not enough to stand with him against the Regent, obviously, but enough to band together against Akielos if the whole region was under attack?

Probably not.

So instead of seeking an audience to discuss any joint moves with Lord Touars, Laurent sent a messenger in an entirely different direction instead. 

A reciprocating attack in nearby Breteau, on the Veretian side of the border, seemed to be the only reply.

"This must be answered in kind," Lord Touars hurried to say, though he was much less quick to volunteer to do it himself. 

"Your Highness?" asked Jord, looking for orders.

"We ride for Breteau," Laurent confirmed grimly.

He left a small percentage of his men camped outside Ravenel, partly to keep an eye on the fortress, and partly just to keep Lord Touars guessing about Laurent's intentions. If Uncle was passed information that suggested Laurent would return there in due course, all the better, for it had never been Ravenel's walls inside which Laurent had intended to take refuge when the need arose. 

The rest of his men packed up their tents and departed. Not a single one of Lord Touars's soldiers rode out with them. Laurent hadn't really expected otherwise at this point.

It felt good to relax into the saddle again; to feel the bunching of the mare's muscles underneath him. Those few long weeks stuck in place outside Ravenel had somehow chaffed like chains of imprisonment, even though he'd been breathing open air and able to move unimpeded most of the time. There was something about being constantly under observation from over the walls, with his every move potentially being reported back to his uncle, that made him feel even more pinned down there than inside the close walls of Arles. 

Riding away from that felt like freedom, even if what he was heading towards was nothing so happy and carefree.

It felt even better to be able to do some actual good. Perhaps Laurent couldn't bring those who'd been lost back to life, but he could help those who were injured but still breathing. Or his physicians could, while Laurent did whatever he could to assist. Thankfully, Lord Touars was at least not so cold, or so unaware of the need to keep the good will of the villages in his region, that he hadn't sent medical aid to ride with Laurent's convoy. It appeared Paschal was managing to corral Lord Touars's physicians even though he wasn't technically one of them. Apparently once they were busy in the field, physicians were not quite as worried about power and politics as courtiers, Lords and Regents were. That was a refreshing change.

Just as importantly as tending to the wounded, he and his men could help the villagers bury their dead, and to mourn them. Laurent could comfort children made into orphans too young, like he had once been. He could commiserate with men who hadn't been able to spare their own brothers or fathers from the stab of Akielon weapons.

Still, for all that they all tried to help where they could, some things were inevitable. Laurent had little ability to subdue the driving desire for retribution that boiled within the blood of those most affected by the attack. And it wasn't as if Laurent didn't understand that impulse at a bone-deep level. He even supported it to a point. The more Akielons dead and injured at Veretian hands, the better. The problem was more that Laurent had no way of even trying to control the actions or reactions of the people on the Akielon side of the border. The following week was filled with smaller, testing skirmishes, with each successive bout growing in intensity as both sides realised that the other was not going to be the one to just say 'enough' and let an incursion go unanswered. It would eventually erupt into full on battle. Laurent knew it was only a matter of time.

On the eighth day after Breteau had been hit, though, it was a messenger rather than a whole army that approached the boundary of their camp outside Breteau. He wasn't one of Laurent's messengers. Nor did he answer to any of the potential allies Laurent had tried to get in contact with.

Laurent took in the red livery, too similar in appearance to the symbol of the Regent and even more hateful to him. He gestured impatiently for the man to speak.

"The Crown Prince of Akielos has been made aware of your message to the Kyros of Delpha. He wishes to request a parley to discuss its contents," the messenger said. 

The rushing sound of the blood in his head meant Laurent barely heard anything after the fifth word. That didn't matter. He'd understood the important part.

Damianos, prince-killer, was _here_.

Laurent very nearly sent for his horse so he could immediately ride out after the murdering savage. 

No, he told himself, _think_. He couldn't let his emotions make him act rashly this time, when the consequences were far more important than just one more occasion when Uncle made him appear unreasonable and childish before the court. But thinking was nearly impossible. It was as if he were in a haze, or underwater, everything somehow appearing simultaneously too slow and too swift. His thoughts lacked the crisp logic Laurent was used to relying upon.

"Inform your Prince that the Crown Prince of Vere and Acquitart will parley with him," Laurent distantly heard himself agree.

"Is that wise?" Jord asked carefully once the messenger had ridden away. "I'm sorry for questioning you, Your Highness, but I think that even in the unlikely event that there's some good to be gained from meeting with him, we still don't need to hand them the early advantage. The meeting is hardly to be held on neutral ground." Laurent, who hadn't even heard the proposed location, should possibly be more worried about that, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

It was idiocy. He was sure he knew better than this. But how could he step back and push this rare opportunity aside? Surely there could be nothing Laurent cared more about than the possibility of finally avenging Auguste, who had loved him and believed in him and not cared at all that his brother was just an Omega. He might never get a better chance at doing so.

Was it wise? No. Definitely not.

But was it _necessary_? More so than breathing, as far as Laurent was concerned. He'd taken a risk in coming to the border in the first place. He'd take this risk as his reward.

"It'll be wiser if you come with me," Laurent said, hating himself a little for saying it. There was a chance he might be signing Jord's death warrant with those words, but he needed to take someone he could trust, and who would understand without needing it said that Laurent might be planning to do something that would require a quick retreat. Besides, he knew Jord would not have consented to let Laurent go alone, whether Laurent had asked or not.

Backing that thought up, Jord replied, "There was never any doubt of that. There are several other men I'd trust implicitly to guard your back, if you consent for me to choose them."

They would be the most loyal of his men, Laurent realised regretfully. He should be rewarding their loyalty, not potentially giving them reason to regret it. 

"Gather them in the morning," Laurent instructed all the same. "We leave for the meeting at dawn."


	5. Chapter 5

The moment before Laurent dismounted, there was a tiny rational part of him that considered turning his horse around and just riding right back the way he'd come to give himself time to mentally regroup.

That part of him was, however, currently buried underneath layers of newly reinvigorated heartache and simmering anger.

As Laurent and his men were escorted between deceptively unimposing rows of tents into the heart of enemy territory, he couldn't help but notice the charged tension in the air. Akielon soldiers swarmed around them like wasps. The men of the opposing nations never quite got close enough to each other to allow a fight to break out, but it felt like they were constantly at risk of it. It was clear that only direct orders not to engage were holding the Akielons back, and just barely at that. Even that wasn't quite enough to stop one of them from spitting in the Veretians' direction, which was just what Laurent expected of such uncouth animals. He eyed the gob that had landed not far from his feet with about the same level of distaste with which he looked at the Akielons themselves.

So when he was informed that the parley would be conducted as a private meeting between just the two princes, Laurent fully understood the reason for it. These were clearly not Ambassadors or official Councils of advisors out here in the borderland wilderness. The presence of these Alpha hotheads, who were built for getting their way at the end of a sword rather than across a table, would only be a hindrance. 

Laurent, of course, readily agreed to those terms. He was barely able to contain his eagerness at the prospect, in fact. It was as if they were offering him an open invitation to act.

The tent they led him to was larger than the others, but otherwise would have faded into the sea of white canvas. When he was halted outside the entrance and asked to surrender his arms, Laurent looked derisively at the Akielon who held out his hands expectantly, instead passing his sword and knife directly to Jord for safekeeping. As Laurent had expected, Laurent's men reacted violently as soon as enemy Alphas tried to pat down their Omega Prince to search him for remaining weapons. The Akielons reacted in kind, probably ecstatic to finally have been given an excuse. It was only the emergence of a man who exuded an understated air of command, who Laurent could only assume was Nikandros, that managed to calm the Akielons down just enough to prevent a full-blown altercation. 

Nikandros then took one look at Laurent and sighed deeply. "This is such a bad idea," he muttered in Akielon. Nonetheless, Nikandros reluctantly informed the Akielon soldiers that the Prince had instructed for their guest to be allowed to pass. They moved aside for him as if in slow-motion, unwilling to disobey their Prince's orders but almost equally unwilling to let Laurent inside alone with him.

Laurent impatiently pushed past them and swatted the simple tent flap out of his way like a pest.

Even knowing what was coming, the sight of him still somehow brought Laurent up short.

 _Damianos_. 

In the surreality of the moment, Laurent's first thought was that the sketches he'd stared at for hours on end, obsessed with making sure that he'd recognise his foe even covered in mud and blood on the battlefield, were surprisingly accurate. Laurent had imagined, as was often the case for likenesses of royalty, that artistic license had been taken to make his expression appear more open and honest, and to downplay any battle-related scarring and make him generally look more striking. He'd more than half expected that when he was finally able to look on that face in person, it would more closely resemble that of a snarling animal. There was no sign of that now.

But his true nature was still revealed through his body. That at least was exactly what Laurent had expected: a muscle-bound Alpha crossed with a hulking Akielon beast. Somehow the size of him even seemed magnified beyond that, as if he were larger than life despite standing right there, flesh and blood, just a few footsteps from finally being within Laurent's reach. It was as if Laurent were thirteen, not yet grown, and looking up at the fully formed warrior who'd taken his whole world away from him.

Auguste hadn't been afraid of facing such a man alone, Laurent reminded himself. Laurent could do no less than to be just as courageous in Auguste's name.

He knew he'd usually stand little chance against an Alpha who was so much larger than himself without at least the distance of a sword between them. But if he chose his time right, then he could still emerge triumphant. Unless he was a lot sneakier than he looked, Damianos wasn't armed. Size aside, Laurent should be the one who had the upper hand.

Laurent made himself take a surprisingly steady step forward. Then another. Slowly, he reminded himself. Wait for your moment. Make it quiet and then make your escape.

Damianos's posture was oddly welcoming as Laurent approached, as if he wasn't overly bothered that the man who'd just entered his tent was an enemy. Clearly he was ignoring the potential threat Laurent posed in favour of concentrating on other things.

Laurent knew what he looked like. He was lucky if a day went by when he didn't have to hear his soldiers describing aspects of his appearance in great detail. He certainly knew what a man who appreciated what he saw looked like as well. The way Damianos regarded him, the polar opposite of Nikandros's cursory displeased inspection, suggested that he was far from immune from the usual Alpha reaction to him.

Laurent was used to that by now. He was more than willing to take advantage of it.

However, then Damianos breathed in sharply. "Oh," he said, his lazy smile faltering slightly in shock, making it clear he hadn't actually been aware Laurent was an Omega until just now, nor had he previously been close enough to be affected by the scent of him.

But he knew now.

Laurent glared at him in challenge. He waited for Damianos to say something disparaging; maybe even for him to insist on calling off the meeting until someone with some actual authority arrived to take Laurent's place. Akielons were thugs who cared only for physical strength. An Alpha prince of Akielos would have even less respect for Omegas than Veretians did, certainly.

Only, strangely, Damianos did none of that. In that moment, there was nothing in his eyes that looked like Alpha condescension. He just seemed slightly surprised.

Just as Auguste had.

That was what fractured Laurent's already barely-there control. He was on top of Damianos before the other man thought to react. Surprise was a great equaliser, and Laurent knew he'd been underestimated.

Laurent's hand found the knife he'd hidden where he'd suspected the Akielon soldiers wouldn't be allowed to search. He raised the blade to Damianos's throat in a flash, with only Damianos's reactive tight grip on his wrist stopping him from the flick of muscles that would end it. Laurent pressed his weight downwards into it, trying to move his hand just that fraction further. It shouldn't take much pressure; the blade was sharp. And anger was making Laurent strong. 

But Laurent could already feel bruises blooming on the pale skin of his wrist from the force of the hand holding him back. The delicate bones there felt almost as if they were grinding against each other. Sweat beaded on his brow from the effort of constantly pushing against that pressure. Laurent breathed in the answering scent of Alpha exertion, spicy and affecting, and then was immediately annoyed at himself for registering it at such a moment. It only made him determined to combat that Alpha strength even more fiercely.

Yet despite his best efforts, Damianos still lived. 

The air between them was still and quiet for a long moment as the impasse registered. Damianos merely regarded Laurent with assessing eyes. Perhaps he was still misjudging Laurent, for even now that the initial shock of Laurent launching himself at him had worn off, Damianos didn't seem to find it necessary to call out for assistance from his guards. He just strained silently back against Laurent, holding him in place as much as he was holding him back. It occurred to Laurent suddenly that although he was the one on top, he was in a way equally trapped, suddenly at the mercy of this Alpha as much as the Alpha was at his.

His only way out of this now was to succeed in what he'd come here to do. He had to finish it. He _had_ to.

"Don't," Damianos finally said, as if reading his thoughts. But it sounded like a warning, when Laurent dearly wanted Damianos to _beg_.

"You don't want to do this here," Damianos continued in the kind of crisp and almost accentless Veretian that would have been more at home in the court at Arles than coming from the mouth of this massive brute of an Akielon. The shock of it nearly made Laurent loosen his grip on the knife, but he held on.

"I really do, though. You _killed my brother_ ," Laurent hissed. 

Damianos swallowed against the knife. 

"I did," he admitted. "On the field of battle, where he was fighting just as hard to kill me." 

Laurent jabbed his knee viciously in the direction of Damianos's groin in retaliation for that. He enjoyed the wounded grunt that ensued, though somehow Damianos's hold on Laurent's arm lessened not at all despite his evident pain.

"Not 'just as hard', you faithless bastard," Laurent spat. "He had you beaten and yet let you reclaim your sword. You'd be dead if not for that. You didn't repay him that courtesy."

"No," Damianos admitted, infuriatingly seeming unashamed by having the stark truth of his dishonour thrown in his face. "But I still killed him fairly within the confines of single combat. That's something quite different to you slitting my throat here, during a parley when I'm unarmed and you entered under an agreement that you would be too. My father the King will raze the entirety of your lands if I'm killed this way. Even against all logic, even if his own kingdom falls just as Vere does, he'll still do it to avenge me. You understand that impulse for retribution at whatever cost, I think. But that outcome isn't something either of us wants."

"You really have no idea how much I want you dead," Laurent disagreed.

"You've had over five years to come for me if the potential consequences really weren't holding you back," Damianos pointed out. "Your people are depending on their Prince to continue to exercise that restraint."

In a swell of renewed strength, the knife dug in just enough to elicit a line of red, but something ultimately stayed Laurent's hand, and this time he wasn't sure it was entirely down to Damianos's hold on him. "Don't talk about my people. You know nothing of Veretians, except how to kill them."

Annoyingly, Damianos still didn't look nervous now that first blood had been drawn. He looked far more in control than he had any right to. "My men outside know how to kill Veretians, too. The men you brought with you will be the first to die, if it comes to that. For something this important to you, I'm sure you'd have brought your most devoted soldiers. You've probably known most of them for years. I was informed that one of them wears a Captain's badge, even, so clearly there's some trust there. Do you care enough about what happens to them to put them above your vendetta?"

"Shut up," Laurent ordered, and somehow, unbelievably, managed to despise Damianos more than ever before for being _right_. Laurent's soldiers might have been brash and annoying and spent way too much time talking about him more like he was a pet than a prince, but they were loyal, and they were _his_. Laurent had experienced too little loyalty over the past five years not to be sensitive to its value, and to at least try to return it in kind.

"We could still resolve this," Damianos claimed. "Your missive to Nikandros suggested that your Regent was acting beyond his bounds in organising for the attack in Tarasis. I wanted to at least hear you out, to see if I believed that you weren't involved. It would be a shame to set the massed armies of our two nations against each other if really there's only one man who needs to be fought."

Laurent grimaced. "Yes, apparently taking out a single man is the Akielon way, isn't it. Except that the idea of you trying to prevent war is laughable. You hardly protested at Marlas."

"I don't want _pointless_ war," Damianos corrected. "The last time our countries clashed was to reclaim land that was once ours. Here there's no benefit to either side. What would Akielos get out of this fight but dead soldiers? I hoped that in meeting with you I might find some kind of alternative to that. I _still_ hope that. Though it might go some way to reassuring me that there's actually a chance of that if you'd at least retract the claws a little."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "You may be keeping my knife hand at bay for now, but I swear I'll still find a way to cut out your tongue if you don't stop speaking to me like I'm a kitten to be coaxed. You forget, I'm the one who has the power here."

"You have the weapon," Damianos acknowledged. Then he shifted his weight unexpectedly and in the next moment Laurent was the one on his back, the knife skittering across the ground. "But that only helps if you can hold onto it."

Laurent thrashed and kicked and nearly wrenched his own shoulder out of its socket as he tried to roll them closer to the knife to give him at least a fighting chance, all to no avail. Damianos's muscles flexed a little harder at times, showing off his strength, but that was the only visible clue that it was even an effort to hold onto Laurent this way. Otherwise he gave every impression that they might be lying in bed casually entwined like lovers. Just the thought made Laurent jerk violently under Damianos's weight again, with no more success.

Laurent had spent years honing his ability with a blade precisely to prepare for this day, when he would face Damianos in a fight. Unfortunately, he hadn't really thought to also include wrestling in his training; it wasn't exactly a favourite pastime for noblemen in Vere. He wasn't sure how much of a difference it would have made anyway. Even if Damianos hadn't had the clear advantage of experience, the benefits of greater weight, height and physical strength still all fell unmistakably in his direction as well. As it was, Damianos had managed to so thoroughly physically restrict Laurent that he had no ability to move any of his limbs more than an inch or two at a time, and he couldn't hope to get any traction. They were at a kind of stalemate again, it seemed, only somehow Laurent was the only one who was actually out of options. 

Perhaps it could still be worse, though, Laurent supposed. At least they weren't naked while pressed together like this, which he'd heard was the usual Akielon wrestling style.

Although… that might well have benefitted Laurent, all things considered. 

It occurred to him belatedly that he did still have one weapon at his disposal. It should be no different than wielding his sword or a knife. He'd used it before when there had been no other choice. Though part of him felt sick even thinking about it, especially in relation to this opponent in particular, he knew he could do whatever was necessary. 

Laurent sighed and purposely relaxed against Damianos. He presented his throat as if in surrender.

"You're right," he said softly. "I acted hastily. How can I make it up to you now?"

Damianos laughed, sounding strangely delighted for someone who'd nearly been murdered a few minutes ago. "Oh, look at you. You're certainly tempting, even when you're obviously lying through your teeth and barely even trying to make it believable. Just as well. I imagine that if you were motivated enough and properly used the extensive arsenal you've been gifted with, you could steal my whole kingdom out from under me, couldn't you?" Damianos swept his gaze down Laurent's body appreciatively so there could be no doubt about what 'arsenal' he was referring to. 

Laurent was not quiet about his frustration as Damianos finally called in the guards who were waiting outside the tent, Laurent's included. Every one of them looked unsure about how to address the tableau of two princes physically locked together and struggling slightly on the ground of a diplomatic tent.

"Crown Prince Laurent of Vere is charged with breaking the terms of parley by carrying a prohibited weapon and attempting to assassinate the Crown Prince of Akielos," Damianos informed them all, first in Akielon, and then, to the shock of Laurent's men, repeating it in perfect Veretian.

Laurent's men looked ready to protest. 

"Captain," Damianos addressed Jord, "I think you'll find the evidence of the charges just to your left." He tilted his chin to point out the knife lying not-quite-forgotten on the floor nearby. Jord, watched closely by the Akielons, picked it up for inspection. It would have been immediately clear to anyone with working eyes that he recognised the design of it. He couldn't fail to have known it, when Laurent had carried it with him everywhere without fail since using it to kill the Alpha who had attacked him at the start of his first heat. It would have been poetic if he'd also managed to stick it into the man who'd ultimately allowed Uncle to gain the power he needed to order that attack. 

"That knife was drawn upon me," Damianos claimed. "Do you deny the identity of its owner?" 

"It's an Akielon trick. That might have been stolen from the weapons the Prince left outside the tent and brought in here to support this farce," Jord said, though he sounded utterly unconvinced by his own claim. That was the problem with weeding those likely to turn on him out of his Guard, Laurent thought; the remaining men didn't really have enough skill at deception to call upon it when it would actually be useful.

"That kind of trickery may be common in Vere, but it's not how we do things in Akielos. Besides, that would have required that you failed to watch over both your Prince's possessions and the one entrance into the tent your Prince was inside. That seems like poor procedure for a trained soldier, especially a Captain," Damianos chastised.

Jord couldn't really do much but look vaguely annoyed at that. To be fair, Laurent knew he hadn't given his Captain much of a leg to stand on.

"Put Prince Laurent under arrest," Damianos directed his own guards in Akielon. Laurent tried one last time to kick free of Damianos's continued hold before anyone else could lay hands on him. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

Though Laurent's guards didn't understand Damianos's order, they still reacted to the movement of the Akielon guards towards their Prince by themselves surging forward. It was a clear display of unthinking loyalty and protection, and in that moment Laurent couldn't have rightly said whether the men acted as soldiers in defence of their Prince or Alphas instinctively protecting an Omega under their charge. He supposed it didn't matter when that loyalty was about to get them killed either way. They didn't have a chance against an entire camp full of Akielon soldiers. Laurent never should have brought them with him.

"Stand down!" Laurent ordered. He hated that Damianos looked at him as though Laurent had proven his earlier point for him.

Laurent's men held position as ordered even when Laurent traded Damianos's tight bodily hold for soldiers pulling him to his feet and gripping his arms almost as tightly. Damianos pushed himself up as well and faced Laurent, standing. They might have looked like equals now, if only one of them weren't currently a prisoner.

"Don't worry," Damianos said directly to Laurent's men in Veretian. "You'll all be going with him until I can figure out how best to deal with this."

"My men had no knowledge of my intentions," Laurent interjected. "They were only here to escort me. Their loyalty shouldn't earn them execution."

"No one's being executed," Damianos replied calmly. "If that was my intention, your neck would have already been suspended over the block by now."

"Then what exactly do you intend to do with us?" Laurent asked, dreading the answer.

"I suppose," Damianos said thoughtfully to Laurent, "that will depend on you. You haven't exactly convinced me so far that there's any point in trying to work with you. For all I know, it was you rather than your uncle who attacked our village, just to give yourself the opportunity to come here and try to seduce and kill me. Though if that was your plan, you carried it out in the wrong order. Next time you might try starting with the seduction. And putting in a more convincing performance, while you're at it. Anyone would think you'd never flirted before." 

Laurent's face flushed with embarrassment against his will. He quickly steeled himself, hoping that Damianos would simply write it off as the heat of anger if he'd noticed.

Damianos's mouth fell open slightly.

"There," he breathed, reaching out and brushing his thumb lightly over Laurent's reddened cheekbone. Laurent jerked as far backwards as the soldiers' hold would allow. His own men shifted uneasily. "That," Damianos said pointedly, "is the look and determination that might have made me do something stupid earlier, not trying and failing to play at being the coquette."

"Are you seriously giving me tips on how to seduce the man who killed my brother?" Laurent asked, appalled. "Rest assured, my actions were a last-ditch effort to free myself, not some kind of plan I’m looking to fine tune."

Damianos regarded him, considering. "You know, I do believe that. In fact, I think if you came in here with any plan at all, it started and ended with 'bring a knife'. That's how a man spurred blindly into action might act, not a man who had coldly ordered a village massacred as a strategic step to getting closer to his target." 

Looking satisfied, Damianos turned to his soldiers. "Take Prince Laurent to the holding area. I believe in time we might have some things to discuss after all."


	6. Chapter 6

Trailed by a veritable cavalcade of two nations' soldiers, Damianos showed Laurent to the tent in which he was apparently to be imprisoned for the indeterminate future. It was plain both outside and in, with no furnishings except a single pallet on the floor and one accompanying set of chains already conspicuously in place. Laurent had taken one look and had said, sounding remarkably haughty despite the way he could feel his heart racing, "No. I don't think this is going to work."

This amused Damianos. "I'm sure you'd prefer a royal suite, but I'm afraid they aren't quite set up for storing criminals."

"What I'd prefer is to not be restrained alone in here so a battalion of Akielon mongrels can stop by and take turns with me as they please," Laurent shot back. He thought that he succeeded fairly well at sounding merely annoyed at the idea rather than letting any of the true emotions that he was experiencing reach the surface.

Damianos's expression tightened. "My soldiers know better than to touch a prisoner under my protection. We're not rapists."

"No? I imagine your slaves would say otherwise if you hadn't trained them not to expect any better," Laurent accused.

"We care for our slaves," Damianos protested, sounding affronted. "We don't take anything that isn't willingly given."

Laurent knew he looked incredulous. "You'll regret it if you try to 'care' for me that same way," he swore.

"Are you saying you expect me to enslave a prince?" 

"Why not? You've already got the chains prepared, after all, even if they're not made of gold," Laurent pointed out. "And I'm sure you'll treat me as if I have just as little say in what happens to my body either way."

"Of course not. You're a prince, and will be treated as no less." 

"Is that a fact?" Laurent questioned. "Well then, as a prince, I demand that my guards be allowed to remain with me."

Damianos eyed Laurent's men, not even having to inhale to instinctively recognise most of them as fellow Alphas. "Really? You think that's a good idea when you smell this intoxicating?"

Laurent blanched.

Damianos raised his eyebrows at Laurent's reaction. "Oh come on, don't be shy now. You seemed to know your appeal well enough when you were trying to use it against me earlier. Surely you're used to receiving compliments."

"Even if I was interested in having someone comment on my _smell_ ," Laurent said in disbelief, "do you think there could ever be any possibility that I'd actually want to hear it from _you_?" 

"I think that you might enjoy the reminder that you have something you can use against me, yes." Damianos acted as if handing a potential weapon to an enemy were just a matter of course. If only he were equally willing to do that on the battlefield, Laurent reminded himself sharply, he might not have been responsible for ruining Laurent's life. 

Damianos of Akielos was ridiculously arrogant, and doubly frustrating. Laurent definitely would like to kill him more than ever. Eventually, he promised himself. Somehow. He had to believe that to make whatever he had to do from now onwards worth it.

"Well if I'm so appealing," Laurent said with no small amount of disgust, "then all the more reason for my men to stay. I certainly trust my own Alphas to control themselves better than yours."

To a point, of course. 

"Besides," Laurent added, "if you were serious about avoiding unnecessary bloodshed, you should be aware that my men won't just meekly allow themselves to be led away, knowing that I'll be chained up in here with no protection."

Damianos sighed, and then after a moment conceded. "Fine. Have your guards. If you're expecting that they'll be able to break you free, though, I wouldn't get your hopes up. You won't be left unsupervised."

"If you think I'm just waiting for a bunch of Alphas to sweep in and save me, you couldn't be more wrong," Laurent claimed. 

"And yet you haven't exactly managed to free yourself," Damianos pointed out smugly.

"Do you intend to personally hold me in a wrestling lock for days on end?" Laurent asked.

"Sadly, no," Damianos said, sounding audibly wistful about that, damn him.

"Then I'm certain I could manage on my own," Laurent said confidently.

Damianos had laughed, as if it were a joke. "And I gather then you'll just march out through hundreds of my soldiers, and manage to stab me on your way out of camp while you're at it?"

"Don't worry," said Laurent, "I'm not about to make the same mistake twice. Next time, you won't see me coming."

Damianos didn't look troubled by this at all. "I can't imagine ever failing to notice you," was all he said.

Laurent scowled as Damianos turned and spoke to one of his men in such rapid-fire Akielon that Laurent could only decipher every second or third word. The meaning became obvious enough, though, when there appeared several Akielon men loaded down with enough restraints to hold all of Laurent's guards and then some.

That was how Laurent had ended up packed into a small tent with more men than he cared to count. Even if the weight of the manacles around his wrists constantly pulling at him and reminding him where he was hadn't prevented Laurent from finding sleep that night, he still wouldn't have been able to relax in the slightest while being so densely surrounded by Alphas, with most of them enemies at that.

The first of Damianos's compromises for leaving Laurent's people with him was to keep the soldiers' chains so short that the only Veretian who even had enough slack to get to his feet was Laurent himself. It meant that Laurent was the one who had the choice of staying in close contact with his people or keeping some distance. For all that Laurent didn't want special treatment for being an Omega, he did have to admit that he preferred not having Alphas half on top of him all night.

Not that he would ever be grateful to Damianos for anything, of course.

And then, because the heavy chains apparently weren't precaution enough, Damianos also filled the tent with an exorbitant number of Akielon guards for good measure. 

"And here I thought you'd underestimated me," Laurent muttered. "Do you really think you need this many men to keep me from escaping?"

"My guards aren't here to stop _you_ ," Damianos said, glaring pointedly at Laurent's own Alpha guards. "You may trust your men, but I don't know them. I'm not taking the chance of the Prince of Vere being assaulted, even by his own men, under my watch."

Laurent's men didn't react well to that, to say the least.

In fact, the overall stench of tense Alphas from both armies was so thick in the air it was stomach-turning. At least there was no contrasting hint of aroused Alpha anywhere in the mix. Even if any of them were otherwise inclined, in this environment the immediate focus was bound to be on the threat of the competition. It was exactly why Laurent had concluded that he'd be safer even with hundreds of Alpha troops than he would if just one or two Alphas were able to penetrate a camp full of nothing but bought Betas. At the very least, if it came to it, this many Alphas falling into some kind of pheromone-fuelled scrum might enable Laurent to escape in the confusion. Assuming he could get these chains loose, of course. They were tight enough that his already-bruised wrists were aching now.

It was an unwelcome reminder of how easily Damianos had overpowered and contained him.

Laurent shouldn't have given in and attacked Damianos like this, when the only advantage he had was surprise. That was the thought that kept cycling through his mind now that he was stuck in place with nothing but time to consider and reconsider his options. With his emotions no longer leaving him tunnel-visioned, Laurent could see that there had been other paths he might have taken. He should have waited. He should have at least had a sword in his hand.

Laurent had known from the start that taking this chance probably meant dying himself, because it would have been miraculous if he'd made it out of the packed Akielon camp after killing their Prince. But Laurent hadn't been able to let pass this clear chance to finally kill Damianos; it had seemed to be the best and only chance he was likely to get at this stage, with his uncle trying to get him killed and most of the northern Akielon soldiers ready to act as his unwitting weapons. If Laurent had refused to meet with Damianos, or the meeting hadn't gone to Damianos's liking, surely the Akielons would have taken that as license to attack Laurent's too-small troop head-on. In staying his hand, Laurent figured he would probably at most have bought himself a few extra weeks, only to then have died knowing Auguste would never be avenged now. So all he'd been able to think the night before riding out across the border was: what would have been the point in _not_ taking this chance anyway?

What he hadn't really let himself consider that night was what might happen if he _still_ couldn't kill Damianos. To have known deep down that he was probably giving up everything he'd worked towards just for this one chance, and then to not manage to take advantage of it, was painful beyond measure.

Now Damianos was still alive. And somehow, despite the odds, so was Laurent, who was trapped in the middle of a throng of Alphas. His uncle's timing had surely been no mistake. If he was imprisoned here, or transported south to Ios, over a period of weeks…

He had to get free, fairly quickly, whatever it took. Even if that meant having to push down every drive telling him to kill Damianos. Even if it meant Laurent had to at least put on the impression of dealing with him as if they were equals, when really nothing could be further from the truth in Laurent's mind.

The first full day of captivity passed slowly, and with no sign of Damianos or any of his commanders. But Laurent wasn't about to just languish here forgotten, letting precious days tick by while Damianos sat back and ignored the problem. So Laurent was only too happy to complain loudly at his current situation all throughout the following morning, knowing his dissatisfaction would make its way back to Damianos's ears and, hopefully, bring the man himself forth.

"Prince Damianos," he eventually heard Nikandros say formally just outside the tent, "you didn't need to come here yourself. This is already being handled."

"I have no other pressing matters just now," Damianos claimed, and Laurent's fists clenched just at the sound of his voice. Right. Keeping calm clearly wasn't going to be easy. "But I believe you were going to oversee the boundary watch for any Veretian reaction to their Prince's disappearance. Don't worry, you can return to those duties now. I can see to this."

"Please. This is a mistake. You can't just come running when he snaps his fingers and then give him whatever he wants when he bats his eyelashes at you."

Laurent didn't see the look that must have been exchanged between them, but there was ultimately a sigh that Laurent thought came from Nikandros, and then Laurent heard departing footsteps.

Damianos entered the prison tent with surprisingly little fanfare, though Laurent supposed it would be dangerous for soldiers guarding captive enemies to suddenly kneel whenever their Prince happened by. It would have been entertaining, though, to watch them fall over each other in this tiny tent. It also might have been a decent opportunity to make a move to escape.

"I'm told there's still a problem with your accommodations, even after I filled it with soldiers just as you requested," Damianos addressed Laurent, sounding almost as exasperated as Nikandros had. "Is the mattress not plump enough for your liking?"

"Oh, it's eminently comfortable," Laurent said sardonically. "I'm actually thinking about remodelling my own tent back in Vere after this one, complete with the lovely aroma of unwashed soldiers. Though now you ask, the chains are a little tighter than I would prefer," Laurent said, shaking his bound wrist in demonstration. "I'd love it if you'd loosen them."

"I'd be happy to take them off completely. Temporarily, of course, so we can speak away from the soldiers," clarified Damianos.

"But it's so comfortable right here, remember?" Laurent said, making a show of lounging in place, clearly settling in with no intention of moving. "Why would I ever want to leave?"

"You know, I'm not going to pounce on you as soon as you're away from your men," Damianos said, frustrated.

"No, you're not," Laurent agreed, "because you're not even going to get that opportunity if I have anything to say about it."

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, as if they were each retaking the measure of the other man. Laurent was pleased that Damianos was the one who eventually budged, more like he'd been on the issue of Laurent's soldiers than how he'd been when he'd wrestled Laurent into submission. Perhaps it was only when the struggle was physical that Damianos stood as firm as an unshakable fortress. Laurent could work with that.

"Fine," said Damianos. "We can talk here if you really wish. You've put both of us in an interesting position, I have to say. I doubt Vere would accept its Prince trying to murder me during a parley as justification for any action taken against you. If I'm not mistaken, they'd probably just be even more willing to go to war in your name after you came close to killing Damianos of Akielos."

That was true, Laurent thought. He might gain some new appreciation from his subjects for making the attempt. And all it took to finally get that respect was putting himself in a position where he'd probably be killed himself, or worse. 

"So enlighten me about whatever genius alternative plan you think you've come up with," Laurent invited Damianos, sounding unconcerned. 

"Really I should take you to my father," Damianos said thoughtfully. 

"You might as well execute me right here after all, then. Save everyone the trouble," Laurent said frankly. "Theomedes would probably happily kill me just to prompt conflict, never mind whether I were guilty or not."

"We don't kill princes to start wars," said Damianos.

"Only to end them?" Laurent suggested, his tone far too even to be anything other than dangerous. Part of him truly longed for his sword.

"I saved many soldiers' lives, including on the Veretian side, by taking one," said Damianos. "It was the most bloodless option after your father broke the parley. Which, it seems, runs in the family. Perhaps I should have anticipated your actions, given that. Though I don't know how I could have really predicted _you_."

Pointedly ignoring the rest for the sake of retaining his composure, Laurent contested, "My father didn't start that battle." 

"No," Damianos acknowledged, "my father did."

"Your father will start another one, given the chance," said Laurent. "And even if by some miracle he would try to restrain himself, he'd probably still be forced to kill me to show his mettle when my uncle disavows me and refuses to trade for my safety. Or perhaps the trade will be made and some unfortunate accident will be arranged for me on the journey back to Arles. I'm sure that all the variables will be well accounted for. Whatever the outcome, if I'm bound for Ios, I'm dead." 

"Even if that's true, what would you suggest? He's my father, and my King," Damianos protested. "I can't just go behind his back just like that."

"You called on my loyalty to my men and my country to try to stay my hand, but I think you're the one who cares more for your family pride than for your people, _Prince_ Damianos," Laurent challenged. "You don't want a war? Make no mistake; if I'm killed, war will be inevitable. It doesn't even matter if Akielos is responsible for it. That's the way my uncle will spin it no matter what really happens. And when Vere then takes action, it won't be some act of reckless vengeance. My uncle's mind will be unclouded by anger or grief. My death will do nothing but strengthen his position, and he won't hesitate to use it as an opportunity. That's exactly what he wants."

"You've given me no real reason to believe that. Your uncle was the one who agreed to the treaty at Marlas," Damianos pointed out. "As far as I can tell, he would be the most reasonable of all of you."

Laurent laughed humourlessly. "I'm sure your father probably thinks the same. He'll underestimate him. But at Marlas my uncle was freshly appointed as Regent and hadn't yet cemented his power. Now he's had five years to prepare. He's spent those five years planning, with one goal in mind."

"Which is?" 

"Absolute power," Laurent said simply, as if it wasn't in question. "The same thing all men of truly great ambition want. He wants to rule both Vere and Akielos under one banner, and I'd be stunned if he even stopped at their borders once he gained momentum."

"He's only a Regent," Damianos said, "not a ruler. His power is limited."

"Obviously that's why he wants me dead," Laurent said aloud baldly for the first time since realising it himself. "Do you think it's a coincidence that the first large-scale attack on Delfeur in years should happen to occur when I was stationed on the border and you were far enough north to become directly involved? Surely your scouts have given you a head count on my men by now. Even with just the men in this camp you would more than match us. If you called on more of your northern troops, I imagine we'd have been slaughtered in minutes. I underestimated my uncle too until I realised that was his goal. I had thought – or at least hoped – that he just wanted me humiliated and incapacitated, deemed unfit to rule and pushed out of the succession. I should have known better. He wouldn't take the risk of me regaining my standing somehow down the line. Easier to just fully dispose of me and blame Akielos."

"So to prevent war I have to keep you alive," Damianos mused. "That's convenient for you. Say for argument's sake that I believe that's true. That _everything_ you've said is true. What would you suggest I do with a prince who tried to slit my throat and clearly still wants to finish the job, but who I can't kill or allow to be killed by anyone else? I can't just keep you here forever."

Laurent stared down Damianos steadily as he admitted, "No. Not for much longer at all if you want to keep telling yourself your men aren't rapists."

He saw Damianos's eyes widen as he huffed in a breath.

"Well obviously just letting you go isn't possible either."

"Why not?" Laurent asked nonchalantly. "Look how reasonably we're talking now. We'll be closest allies by the end of the day at this rate."

"Alliances are two-sided," Damianos claimed. "I fail to see where the benefit for Akielos is in letting you go if all I have to do to stop a war is not let you die."

"You fail to see a lot of things. Actually, I do have something you might want."

Damianos looked Laurent over with a slow smile. "Oh? I didn't think _that_ was up for negotiation."

Laurent tried not to look like he was imagining strangling Damianos to death. He wasn't sure he succeeded. "I meant _information_ , you barbarian. My uncle's plans for Akielos don't stop at Delfeur. If you think just giving Vere no cause to march south will be enough on its own to protect your father and your country, think again," Laurent said. "But if you agree to let my men and I go free and return to our own camp without assailing us, I can tell you who of your trusted inner circle within Ios is conspiring with the Regent of Vere against your King."


	7. Chapter 7

"You dare…"

Even among the more accomplished actors of the Veretian court, Laurent had never seen someone shift from playful to dangerous as quickly as Damianos did in that moment.

In his supposedly righteous anger, Damianos appeared to physically tower over Laurent more completely than ever. He smelled strongly of an active threat, distinct from the usual underlying risk Laurent tended to associate with any Alpha scent. The verbal attack on the loyalty of one of his trusted allies had apparently been enough to get him fully worked up where Laurent's physical attempt on his life had mostly just seemed to charm him. 

For the first time, Laurent's mental picture and the reality of Damianos almost matched, where before there'd always been an unexpectedly wide dissonance. Laurent had barely been able to process the sight of this barbarian playing at giving in to his requests and acting as if he'd never lay a hand on Laurent or let his men do so either. Laurent knew better. He was an Alpha, and an Akielon. He'd killed Laurent's brother, and in so doing had left Laurent alone in a palace of enemies. Laurent knew he could surely be no better than Uncle, pretending at caring about Laurent's well-being and protection when it suited him, only for all of that to fall away and reveal something quite different behind closed doors. Eventually his true colours would show.

This was that moment, Laurent decided, fortifying himself. This was apparently when Damianos would finally put aside the civilised façade and treat Laurent exactly as he'd expected from the moment he'd realised he couldn't break through the strength of Damianos's wrestling hold. Laurent supposed he would be lucky to just be killed in anger. His luck, though, had never really held, so what he expected really awaited him was far worse. Either way, it had just been a matter of time. In a gruesome way, similar to how it had felt when Uncle had finally admitted out loud how much ill he wished on Laurent, he supposed it would be a sort of relief to just get the inevitability of it over and done with. 

This was Uncle's plan coming to fruition, and after all his hopes and planning Laurent hadn't managed to avoid it because Uncle knew him too well.

But he wasn't just going to roll over and let it happen.

Laurent, who had previously been giving every indication of lazing indolence as he sprawled on his thin pallet, sprang nimbly to his feet, partly to lessen the degree to which Damianos could look down on him and partly to ready himself for a fight, even despite the encumbrance of the chains still rattling at his wrists. He wasn't about to let himself be led away like the docile Omegas he'd seen hanging off their Alphas' arms in the court. Damianos would have to drag him out by his hair, fighting tooth and nail, with Laurent's soldiers tearing down the tent around them to try to free themselves of their chains. Based on their clamouring, his men were already on the verge of that as it was. Perhaps Laurent would have done better to back into the radius of their relative protection rather than jumping up and out of their reach, but Laurent had no intention of cowering before Damianos, prince-killer, of all people.

Instead, Laurent didn't even spare his men a glance, too busy trying to face down Damianos without showing any of the trepidation he felt.

"We will not have this discussion here," Damianos concluded tersely, a demand.

No, Laurent expected not. Damianos didn't seem like the type to want an audience. His heart beat rabbit-fast at the thought of what a private 'discussion' would really entail.

Damianos suddenly took a step back and seemed to reassess, the anger not quite disappearing from his face but seeming to flatten into something less aggressive. Laurent could only guess that it was a visceral Alpha response to Laurent's scent having sharpened suddenly into something more acrid. Despite years of training himself to show nothing of his true emotions to men like his uncle, all an Alpha like Damianos had to do to be well aware of his spike in anxiety was breathe in. In other circumstances Laurent would have been incredibly annoyed that his body had given him away. This time, though, Laurent wouldn't complain if that automatic triggering of his Alpha protective instinct was enough to make Damianos keep his distance. Laurent would take whatever advantage he could get, at this point.

"I wasn't going to…" Damianos started, then couldn't seem to find the words.

"Weren't you?" Laurent replied disbelievingly. "Why not? Why keep pretending?"

Damianos shook his head. "I told you already, I'm not a rapist. I have no interest in forcing you down and making you anything less than you are. But you've already made it clear that there's nothing I can say that will convince you of that," Damianos conceded. "All I can do is keep trying to demonstrate that I'm more than you seem to think I am, and hope that you'll eventually accept it."

Laurent wished he didn't see a parallel between them at that moment. He didn't want to have anything at all in common with the man who'd killed Auguste. Nor did he want to see himself in the role of the Council, or the court, or even his own soldiers, who didn't want to be convinced.

It was different, he reminded himself.

Laurent said, "Neither your words nor your actions mean anything while I'm in your custody, where you can change your mind on a whim and do whatever you like to me, and I'd have no ability to stop you." 

"Fine. Let's fix that, shall we? You clearly won't trust in your safety unless you have some recourse to ensure it. Here," Damianos added in Akielon to one of his own soldiers. "Unlock Prince Laurent from his chains and then hand him your sword."

The soldier was too stunned to move for a moment. A glare from his Prince eventually jolted him into action, though he still looked utterly bewildered by such an order, and probably would have even if he'd understood the strings of Veretian words that preceded it. Laurent had never expected to be able to commiserate with any soldier of Akielos, but he shared at least some of that confusion.

Laurent's own men seemed to have even less idea of how to interpret the sight of, astonishingly, the chains falling away from Laurent's bruised wrists and Laurent being handed a weapon like a gift. It was like he suddenly wasn't a prisoner at all. 

"Your Highness," Jord spoke up, sounding uneasy, while the other men had all finally fallen quiet.

Laurent held up his free hand to indicate they should all stand down, at least for now, while this played out.

"Have we graduated from fighting with words now?" Laurent asked. "You're not exactly instilling me with confidence that you don't mean to attack me after all."

"Do I look armed and ready for single combat?" Damianos asked. "You have a weapon. I don't."

Not that Laurent could see, no, but Laurent was well aware that that had little bearing on whether Damianos was actually armed. If he wasn't, that would be either pure arrogance or absolute foolishness. 

It had to be a test, and not exactly a subtle one, either, though he supposed he should expect no less of an Akielon and an Alpha. But if Laurent chose not to take the chance to attack him again now, was that really going to be enough for Damianos to decide that he trusted Laurent? It didn't seem possible.

No one could be that much of an idiot, surely.

"Possessing a weapon when you're unarmed was what led to me being imprisoned in the first place," Laurent recollected. "Are you trying to give yourself another opportunity to call for my execution? You don't need to go through the theatrics if that's the case."

"Breaking the conditions of an official parley is what got you arrested," Damianos corrected. "I'm changing those conditions. You'll still be expected under the new terms not to attack me unprovoked, of course, if you can manage to actually restrain yourself this time. But you'll be allowed one weapon of your choice, for your own protection. I assumed it would be a sword you wanted."

"I'm your prisoner," Laurent pointed out. "You don't parley with a captive."

Damianos flicked his gaze down at Laurent's wrists, which were finally unchained. "You don't look much like a captive to me," he observed.

"Then I wouldn't need to bargain with you at all," Laurent countered. "If I'm free, I could just walk out of this camp."

"Yes," Damianos said. "You'd be leaving your men behind, though. Not to mention your horses, so you really would be _walking_. Their release is contingent on whatever agreement we can strike."

Laurent glared. He should probably have predicted that Damianos, thinking he'd found a weak spot when he talked about Laurent's men, wouldn't hesitate to use it. To be honest, though, Laurent hadn't given him that much credit.

He was annoyingly right, though. Laurent's reckless actions had trapped his men here. He wasn't about to leave them to the mercies of the Akielon soldiers by choice.

"I assume by your use of the word 'parley' that the catch is that I'll be expected to leave my guards behind to negotiate with you alone," Laurent said.

"Is a sword not a sufficient substitute for their presence?" asked Damianos.

It seemed like an unnecessarily elaborate ruse if the intention was only to get him away from his guards so Damianos could attack him after all. He really wouldn't have needed to go to that trouble. Besides, the ticking clock of his captivity was making Laurent eager enough to find a potential way out of here as soon as possible that having the odds at least a little less skewed in Damianos's favour was difficult to pass up. 

And did he even have much of a choice at this stage?

Laurent nodded sharply in agreement first at Damianos, and then in reassurance towards his soldiers, who didn't look happy about it at all. 

As Laurent followed Damianos out of the prison tent, he was all too aware of how Damianos's unprotected back was presented to him. He willed himself: Don't. Don't do it. Not unless he does something to make you. You said you wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

It was hard not to act on the impulse, but he managed. 

"What?" was the word that was pushed out of Nikandros's mouth by disbelief as soon as he clapped eyes on the sight of Laurent unchained, walking freely, and armed with a sword. " _What are you doing, Damen_?"

"Prince Laurent and I are having a little chat," Damianos said. "Alone," he repudiated Nikandros as the Kyros started to shadow them with shocked negations in his mouth.

Laurent glanced back at where Nikandros had halted, staring after them. Laurent's eyes narrowed in thought. "You could have let him attend, actually. I might not have even needed the sword then."

"You trust Nikandros over me?" Damianos asked, sounding put out. 

"I trust that he would rather gouge his own eyes out than stand back and watch you fuck me," Laurent countered.

"Very true. But he'd also try to stop me from coming to any agreement with you," Damianos said. "A sword won't do that."

"That would depend on how I choose to use the sword."

Damianos led Laurent, alone as promised, into the same tent where Laurent had tried to kill him. It was hardly the kind of impersonal location one might expect to use for a parley, given their recent history here, but Laurent didn't protest. 

"You won't try to kill me again," Damianos announced, sounding supremely confident.

"You'd do well to stop underestimating me," Laurent advised him, fingering the grip of the sword deliberately. 

"Believe me, I don't." Laurent didn't believe him at all, actually. Damianos continued, "I do think that you'll act in your own self-interest, though, at least now that your temper appears more icy than white-hot. So I'll rephrase: I don't think you'll attempt to kill me _today_." 

"You're a fool to take that chance," Laurent said honestly.

"So Nikandros keeps telling me," Damianos conceded. "You two would probably get along well, if he didn't wish you were oceans away from here."

"Apparently he's smarter than you," Laurent said. "I wonder, then, that he at least doesn't already suspect that there's trouble brewing in Ios."

For all that Laurent believed that Damianos was being less than truthful about his intentions towards Laurent, he could still admit that Damianos's face wasn't one designed for subterfuge. The flicker across his expression was brief, but it wouldn't have taken a man of Laurent's perceptiveness to see it. Interesting.

"I've been willing to believe you so far that your uncle's the one who I have to be wary of," Damianos admitted. "But first you try to kill me, and you freely admit that you would like to try again. And now you insist on trying to turn me against my father's closest allies without cause."

"You really think Theomedes is so loved as King that I couldn't be telling the truth?" Laurent asked. "Or maybe you think that the people of Akielos are all so happy with their lot in life that they would never move to better their position? There will be many of your people whom my uncle has made deals with, all of them thinking they have something to gain. Imagine being born noble, so close to power, but not being the first son of a Kyros or King. Or being intelligent and ambitious beyond measure, but made to live the life of a commoner or even a slave. My uncle's whispers would sound so sweet to someone like that. It hardly matters that none of them will enjoy the bitter aftertaste of aligning with him, because by then it'll be too late both for them and for those they've plotted against."

"Such people might exist," Damianos admitted. "I might even believe there could be some inside Ios who had your uncle in their ear. But you said 'inner circle'. Someone my father and I both have total faith in, then. I wouldn't give my trust to anyone I could ever believe would betray it. Your word isn't going to be enough to change that."

"I didn't believe my uncle would try to kill me, either," Laurent said. "Look where that's landed me."

"Your uncle is a Veretian snake," Damianos countered. "It's not the same."

"My Veretian snake uncle is pulling the strings of your trusted Akielons. It's _exactly_ the same."

"Do you have any proof of it?" 

"What," Laurent said wryly, "like a letter detailing every aspect of their plans and signed in their respective blood? I must have forgotten to pick up a copy of that on my way out of Arles."

"Without proof, it's the word of someone I trust against, what, the gossip of the court in Vere? Or your uncle's boasting? Even your own motivations are suspect," said Damianos.

"You'll trust me enough to hand me a sword, but not enough to take me at my word when it might actually benefit you?" Laurent asked flatly.

"Wouldn't it benefit _you_ if I turned on my father's advisors out of unfounded suspicion?"

It was a fair point. Laurent hadn't minded offering this particular information up to Damianos precisely because he had little problem with setting Damianos against his nearest and dearest and watching the fallout. That might be just as likely to lead to Akielos's implosion as whatever Uncle had planned, with the added benefit of things not necessarily going exactly the way Uncle would prefer.

"That might be true," Laurent acknowledged, "if sending you running back to Ios to try to protect your father was my best option right now. As it turns out, I don't think it is. Even if I can return freely to my men camped in Vere, to have any chance of challenging my uncle it seems I'm in need of a larger army. You happen to have access to one of those."

"So I do," Damianos said. "Do you think I'll just hand my men over to you? I'm sure with a face like that you're used to extravagant gifts, but handing out both a pardon and an army all at once would be a little rich for my tastes."

"Akielon soldiers would sooner kill me than fight at my command anyway," Laurent said. "Obviously I'd expect that you would continue to lead them."

Damianos looked beyond sceptical. "You're not going to suggest that after all this you actually trust me, or any other Akielon for that matter, to watch your back and fight alongside you?"

"Once I'm free and back among my own people, real trust stops being quite as necessary," Laurent said. "Call it mutual self-interest instead if you like. Even you can see the logic involved, surely. You face a two-sided assault if my uncle gets his way. If I'm killed, Vere marches on Akielos in my name. If you keep me here, Vere marches on Akielos for my freedom. And all the while my uncle will be turning the people of Akielos against each other however he can, from the border all the way through to Ios. He leaves little to chance. Even if you don't believe he's succeeded in infiltrating your father's most trusted men, I imagine a servant could kill your father even more easily than a friend."

There was a frown line forming between Damianos's brows. Laurent hoped that meant he was actually considering it.

"I obviously need to keep myself alive," Laurent continued. "It's in your best interests for me to remain alive as well. And you need to stop my uncle as much as I do."

Damianos still didn't look entirely impressed. "And you think I should commit treason to align with a foreign prince who violently hates me?"

"Better the man who truthfully admits that he wishes you dead than the one who would plot your downfall while smiling to your face," Laurent advised. The irony of that statement was obviously lost on Damianos. "And if your actions are ultimately to defend your King and your country both, how is that treason?" Laurent further reasoned.

It was a long shot, Laurent knew. This was the man who had thrust the sword that Auguste had graciously allowed him to reclaim right into Auguste's side at his first opportunity. He'd killed a man he owed. Laurent didn't expect that he would help a man who'd tried to kill him.

Then again, this was the same man who wouldn't even listen to Laurent's claims that he was being betrayed long enough to ask by whom. Clearly he was the kind to hope for the best blindly.

"If there's a Veretian influence both warmongering on the border and burrowing into Ios, I'm in favour of eradicating that influence," Damianos admitted. "But I'm not willing to fight your war for you, only to be stabbed in the back as soon as I vanquish your uncle."

"You want me to promise I'll never try to kill you," Laurent predicted. "That's not going to happen."

"I didn't think so. But believe it or not, it's strangely heartening to hear you say that," Damianos admitted. "At least it suggests you're not just willing to throw around false promises. What I want is simpler than that. I would like a reasonable amount of warning, and to have a sword in my hand, before you do come for me again. That's my price for letting your whole contingent leave here with you: a fair fight, not a coward's attack."

"That's all?" Laurent asked, trying not to sound stunned. It couldn't be that easy.

And Laurent supposed it wouldn't be, from his end. Laurent would owe if Damianos more than just a warning if he let Laurent walk out of here alive and relatively unharmed when he would have been well within his rights to execute him. The Veretian court might have been barely able to believe Laurent and Auguste had been brothers if they hadn't seen it for themselves, but the two of them had shared some things, including certain points of honour. Laurent wasn't quite sure how he could be easy with killing Damianos while owing him his own life. It was the sort of incongruous question he'd never thought he would have to face. 

He'd find a way to resolve that debt, though. Then they would meet on the field of battle, as they should have before Laurent's blinding anger and freshly-remembered pain had pushed him to make his move before he probably ought to have. And when they did, Laurent would find a way to win, despite his enemy's advantages of greater experience and a strength that seemed impressive even for an Alpha. All Laurent had to agree to do was provide warning before attacking; Damianos hadn't specified that he couldn't take advantage in other ways once the fighting had commenced. 'Fair fight' clearly meant different things to different people; Damianos had seemed to think what he'd done to Auguste was fair, after all. Laurent would teach him the error of that judgment eventually.

But not today.

"Actually, I do have just one more condition," Damianos said, this time with a lighter air to his tone. "If we're to be allies, I'd much prefer you call me 'Damen'. I find it rolls off the tongue a little easier."

"I could call you 'brute' if you really want to make things simpler," Laurent offered. "One syllable. Easy to remember. It has a nice ring to it, I think."

"I trust you can handle two syllables just as well as one," Damianos said, looking like he was suppressing a smile now, which annoyed Laurent, who'd meant his words to be taken as a proper insult rather than a tease. 

Laurent nearly refused the request just on principle, even though it seemed such a small and insignificant thing. Something told him that Damianos would probably interpret that increased familiarity of using his shortened name with more significance than Laurent would prefer. Perhaps it would benefit Laurent just as much, though, in that it would probably be easier to grit his teeth and bear this for as long as he had to if he wasn't constantly reminded it was Damianos the prince-killer he was dealing with. 

That was probably exactly why Laurent _shouldn't_ agree, actually. He couldn't afford to even temporarily lose sight of the end goal, even if it was currently on hold in favour of a more immediate objective.

In the end, Laurent had forced a smile that he'd been fairly certain only a blind man wouldn't have been able to see through. "Of course. Damen." 

"You agree to those terms?" 

Laurent's 'yes' had been short but truthful. He would agree to that and no more. It wasn't Laurent's fault if the terms weren't overly specific.

"Being 'allies' suggests more than just letting me go, though," Laurent said pointedly.

"True," he agreed, and smiled.

"Tell me you at least got swathes of Veretian land decreed to Akielos as part of whatever deal you made," Laurent heard Nikandros beg after the Akielon guards were instructed to let 'my brother the Crown Prince of Vere' walk without restriction back through their camp to collect Laurent's men. 

"I made no deal except to allow Prince Laurent his and his people's freedom. For now. It's my hope that we might come to a more encompassing accord in a few days, when Prince Laurent isn't fresh out of the irons. I'd hate for him to have to back out of the deal later because he felt it was made under duress." There was a meaningful glance in Laurent's direction, suggesting he was supposed to have overheard that part.

Nikandros looked like he'd swallowed something poisonous. But although he might have protested his Prince's actions, he still stood at his Prince's side as Akielon guards were unceremoniously ordered to release their captive counterparts.

The walk back out through the lines of tents was no less filled with buzzing activity than it had been on the way in, though this time the hostility towards them was tempered with confusion. And this time their way was guided by the Akielon Prince himself rather than one of his errand boys.

Once Laurent was passed his reins and hoisted himself up into his saddle, he rubbed a comforting hand against the horse's neck, glad to find her looking remarkably well-cared for considering she'd spent over two full days in enemy custody, just as Laurent had. 

Though Laurent had come out of it well too, he supposed. It could have been so much worse.

He looked back and met Damen's eyes.

"Your traitor is Kastor, by the way," Laurent announced, uncertain even as he said it whether it was meant as a 'thank you' or a 'fuck you', or both.

Laurent kicked his horse into motion before Damen could protest.


	8. Chapter 8

As they'd ridden unpursued along the road back towards Vere, Laurent's guards had seemed just as gobsmacked as the Akielons that they'd been allowed to go free. They were now all taking turns at glancing at Laurent sideways in disbelief.

On the path back across the border towards their own camp, stunned silence reigned for a long time, with the whickering of the horses and the clop of their shoes in the dirt for once being the loudest noises among a group of men who usually couldn't stop themselves from talking boisterously, even when they probably shouldn't. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Orlant was the first one to break through the quiet.

"Did you actually fuck his brains out?" Orlant asked bluntly, sounding curious and slightly awed rather than as if he meant offense to his Prince. "That's the only thing I can think of that could have led to us just walking away as easy as this when the enemy had us dead to rights."

Laurent might have retorted, then, but it turned out he didn't have to bother. Jord directed his horse right alongside Orlant's and reached over to elbow him, hard. "Watch your mouth," he hissed. "Our Prince would never touch the filth who killed his brother. Don't suggest it again, even in jest." The other soldiers looked like they agreed with putting that topic off-limits, and a few of them appeared slightly sick at the thought. It was a far cry from how eager they usually were to talk about Laurent in bed.

That was just one of many differences between being at court and being on campaign. If that thought had been voiced just once in Arles, even idly, it almost certainly would have been taken up as fact among most if not all of the courtiers. Uncle had encouraged other even darker lies about him, after all, and Laurent knew that they hadn't gone unheard. These men, though, plainly wouldn't hear of it. 

"Should we be wary of a trap?" Jord asked as they got further and further away from the camp in Akielos without incident. "Though I can't imagine why they'd let us go only to attack us on the road. They must know that Akielos would be blamed if harm came to us regardless of which side of the border we were on."

"Yes, I made that very clear. You can rest easy for now," Laurent reassured them. 

"You can't be saying you trust the prince-killer?" Adelard asked, looking as if he'd been shocked into speaking against his better judgement. 

"I trust that I'm intelligent enough to make my move before he can make his, if he even has one planned at all. I certainly hope that you trust in that too?" Laurent challenged. 

Had Laurent ever shown any of his uncle's taste for having his subjects prostrate themselves before him, Laurent got the sense that Adelard would probably have been out of the saddle and scraping his skin against the sharp roadside rocks in apology. As it was, it was enough that there was no further enquiry into the deal Laurent had brokered. Or which had largely been brokered for him, like a gift, to be strictly honest.

Finally, Laurent led their procession back into their camp outside Breteau. If he were judging only by the men's astonished and impressed looks at seeing their small company return alive and with only minor signs of violence and restraint on their bodies, Laurent could almost have believed that he was returning after a great victory, having successfully slain the prince-killer and cut down the entirety of the Akielon camp.

"A messenger from Akielos informed us that you'd been taken into custody for nearly killing Damianos of Akielos," Rochert said as Laurent handed his horse's reins to a servant. 'Nearly killing', Laurent noted, not 'trying to kill' or 'failing to kill'. Perhaps it was a minute difference, but Laurent still thought it might be a significant indicator of the men's mindset. "Our scouts couldn't get close enough to confirm it. We thought…"

They'd thought their Prince was already dead, and that the lying Akielons had just fed them a story to keep the Veretians quiescent while the prince-killer gathered his forces. Laurent had assumed as much when there were no sounds of large-scale violence during his first day of captivity to suggest his men had come for him. These men were many things, but they weren't cowards, and Laurent had seen no real indication that they were disloyal.

"We called for Ravenel's assistance for a strike on the Akielon camp," Rochert added.

"But Lord Touars wouldn't hear of it, of course," Laurent concluded. "And yet the state of the camp here suggests you are preparing to ride out nonetheless."

"In the morning," Rochert agreed. "We still will, at your word, for your honour."

"There's no need. As you can see, I'm unharmed. My honour doesn't need defending," Laurent said. Some of the soldiers seemed unsure that they could trust their eyes, or their noses, to tell them the truth of that. Laurent could understand that well enough, given that he still wasn't entirely sure himself _why_ it was true. But Laurent assumed with the way the men talked about him among themselves that word would quickly spread that he'd only very briefly been out of his guards' presence, and that both times he'd returned with his clothes exactly as laced up as when he'd left and, probably more importantly, not smelling of Alpha. That would hopefully allay their fears and their desire to take vengeance for the imagined slight. He couldn't afford to have his men charging back over the border just now.

"We have more important things to plan for than an unnecessary attack on Akielos," Laurent said. "Send another messenger to Lord Touars. This time inform him that his Prince wishes to temporarily avail himself of Ravenel's hospitality, and that if he's amenable he can expect my arrival in a few days."

As a messenger was organised and the men milled around each other, clapping their returning fellows on the backs, Laurent excused himself to seek the long-awaited privacy of his own tent.

The servants had obviously scrambled to anticipate his needs as soon as he'd been spotted approaching the camp. They'd aired his tent and prepared his things for him, as well as, most importantly from Laurent's current perspective, drawn him a bath.

A male Beta servant remained in the tent awaiting him. He moved quietly to reach for the laces at Laurent's wrist, but shied away slightly at the sight of the dark circles of bruises peeking out from under blue sleeves. Laurent waved him away and dismissed him from the tent firmly but not unkindly. 

He didn't want anyone else undressing him right now. He generally just didn't want to be in anyone's company but his own, either. 

As soon as he was alone, Laurent's hands gripped the edge of the tub that had been laid out for him. He let his shoulders sag and the tension of days spent at attention, nearly constantly suppressing fear, bleed out of him. He stayed there, just leaning into the reality of the solid wood, for countless minutes before finally straightening his spine.

Working the laces loose from their eyelets took time, but part of Laurent revelled in the methodical nature of it, so different from the seeming nonsensicalness of much of his experience in Akielos. He was thoroughly relieved to be out of there and back on Veretian soil, for more reasons than one.

Once Laurent eventually shed the last of his coverings and sank his body under the water line, he shivered and finally let himself acknowledge what he'd been dreading for months, even more so once he'd found himself trapped in Akielon custody with such poor timing, and what he'd been actively fighting off for nearly a day now: Laurent felt peculiar. Weak. Off balance.

Perhaps some of it might have been explained by the rush of relief, but not all. He recognised those feelings too well this time to write them off so easily. He had, after all, viewed heat as an enemy for years, and Laurent was now just as wary of any signs of its approach as he would have been of the sight of dust being kicked up in the distance by an army of Akielon riders.

For all that he'd relied on Auguste's surety that being an Omega didn't make him weak-minded, Laurent had still felt like it had made his own body an adversary to be overcome. He'd felt proven right on that count when he looked back and recalled that he hadn't even tried to push Uncle away when he should have; why wouldn't he have done something to stop it if there hadn't been some part of him that had responded to it? After that, heat had seemed like a worst case scenario. Surely his body, running even more wholly on Omega instinct than when he'd been an only half-presented adolescent, would just fold again no matter what his mind might want.

But Laurent's worst case scenario had been and gone, and yet he was as close to whole as could be hoped for. He'd been attacked by an Alpha during his heat. He'd been stranded in the centre of a camp full of Alpha enemies with the tell-tale signs of oncoming heat lurking again. And yet both times Laurent had emerged largely unscathed. The faults of his physicality apparently hadn't been able to rule him after all.

Laurent's mind had always been stronger than his body. He should never have let himself forget that, no matter what he'd been taught.

Scrubbing his skin in the tepid water felt like sluicing off the emotions that had been dogging him for days. His guilt and pain, though he was sure that they would stay with him eternally, now had to be mostly ignored in his current situation. His anger was more useful as an ember held close to his heart rather than a visible blaze. And his fears were apparently, somehow, unrealised. He pushed it all down, and wiped the surface of what was left behind until it was clean and unreadable once more.

When Laurent finally stepped out of the tub, he felt fully like himself for the first time in too long. He donned fresh clothing, laced tight and concealing. The expression he wore would have been fit for the court at Arles. And if his legs were slightly less than steady as he strode to the flap of his tent to call for his Captain's presence, then that was something that would be dealt with in due course. 

"The men know better than to speak to you as they did on the road back there," Jord apologised after he'd entered the tent. 

"Do they? Experience suggests otherwise. By now I've sadly become far too used to people speculating about my supposed actions in bed to start taking much offense now," Laurent said. At least he could say that half of the stories the soldiers exchanged about him were too preposterously raunchy to be believable, and the other half had finally started looking past the Omega exterior of him to (rightly) paint him as an ice cold bitch who was probably too uptight to even take a lover during heat, let alone outside of it. 

"I wasn't just talking about Orlant. I more meant Adelard second-guessing your motives towards Akielos," Jord replied.

Laurent, who had kept his own council and been reliant on few people for more than five years now, was nonetheless aware that his decisions weren't always perfect. They clearly hadn't been over the past few days. And he certainly hadn't failed to notice how much good Damen could likely have gained from listening to Nikandros's advice either.

He bestowed a serious look on Jord. "You expressed contrition for questioning me when I agreed to the parley as well. You were in the right then; I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been. You shouldn't have to apologise for that. I have no problem with having my decisions queried by my Captain in private, if the question is sound and he's willing to obey me even if he disagrees with my answer. Good advice can be invaluable. Kings have Councils for a reason. But there is, of course, a chain of command. I hope I can trust you to pass any concerns the men might have along to me directly and contain them where necessary."

"Yes, Your Highness," Jord agreed readily. "Of course. In that case, can I ask whether it's really a good idea to return to Ravenel?"

Jord, an Alpha, would at least suspect what was coming. Even freshly washed, Laurent knew there was something different about his scent in the lead up to heat. Humiliatingly, even Damen had commented on it.

"Oh no, it's a terrible idea," Laurent admitted lightly. "But I'm fairly certain Lord Touars will believe me arrogant and unwise enough that I would treat his fortress as if it's a safe haven, particularly since I left a few men camped just outside of Ravenel as if awaiting our anticipated return. And I imagine if Lord Touars expects our imminent arrival, he'll have less incentive to send his men in this direction instead."

"You think he'd take his chance to turn on you now?" Jord asked.

"I think he's the one most likely to pose a real threat over the next few days," Laurent said. "It will take some time for word that I'm alive and well and free despite having Akielos set on us to reach the Regent in Arles. He won't have the opportunity to enact any new alternative plans in time to catch me out. Lord Touars, however, might be being made aware that I've returned here even as we speak, if his spies are quick and diligent enough. If I'm right and he's my uncle's agent rather than just a lord too lazy and disrespectful to risk his own men for his Prince, then it may be necessary to divert him away from my real intentions."

"So instead of riding for Ravenel…" 

Laurent traced his finger across his map of southern Vere. "I ride in the opposite direction."

'I', Laurent had said, not 'we'. If Jord had still had any doubts that Laurent was on the verge of heat at that point, that would extinguish them.

In the morning Laurent took only six of his men, Betas one and all, and rode hard to the east.

Laurent had long thought that if he avoided falling into one of Uncle's traps long enough to actually need to make this ride, it would have been with his entire troop, and it would have been a one-way journey. 

Damen had changed all of that, somehow. Laurent hadn't expected him to free an enemy prince whose kingdom had just attacked his own. Uncle wouldn't have anticipated that either, if he'd even thought that by now Laurent would still be alive at all. So Laurent doubted that his uncle would have poured resources into cutting off a route that he wouldn't have believed Laurent would even be free to take. The coffers of Arles weren't bottomless, after all. As long as Lord Touars didn't anticipate his true intentions, which seemed unlikely based on his past dealings with the man, the worst they should have to deal with would be a few stray mercenaries Uncle might have previously paid off just in case, and maybe a few scouts positioned to constantly watch the paths for any messengers Laurent might have sent towards southern Vask or Patras. 

Laurent's next heat would be a different matter. Once Uncle learned of his destination this time, he'd make sure that Laurent would only repeat this journey in another three months at his peril, assuming things still hadn't come to a head by then. 

Laurent's initial plan had been to stay holed up in the fortress once he arrived there for that very reason. But he'd never have predicted that that would actually leave him in a weaker position than if he abandoned the safety of stone walls to return to the open fields.

The sight of Acquitart as it materialised in the distance was still appreciated, though, even if it was now only to be a temporary haven. 

Arnoul borderline mothering him when he dismounted his horse feeling weak and on the verge of his heat beginning was strangely nice, though Laurent would never in his life have accepted that kind of treatment from almost anyone else. The solid walls and heavy locks that worked to keep the fortress entirely devoid of Alphas were even more welcome. 

"Shall I send a Beta to your rooms?" Arnoul asked. "At your order there are no pets here, but a number of the servants would be eager to attend to their Prince's every need."

"No," Laurent said.

"Or, if you prefer, one of –"

" _No_ ," Laurent repeated. "I'm more than capable of looking after myself." And that was the end of the discussion, whatever Arnoul might personally believe about whether his Prince was right to turn away a potential comfort. Unmated Omegas of the court in and around Arles, few as they were, wouldn't have hesitated. Anything to relieve the discomfort without running the risk of shaming themselves by bearing a bastard. But Laurent had no desire to make himself so vulnerable to anyone.

Besides, it would have been a poor substitute for what his body would really want.

Arnoul bowed to show he understood, and perhaps to apologise for being so forward.

Laurent put his Betas to much better use guarding the hallways, just in case the battlements of Acquitart were not sufficient to keep him safe. He knew better than to just assume that Uncle couldn't possibly have a man or two stationed inside Laurent's own fortress waiting for just such an opportunity.

The onset of heat was more creeping than he recalled, though Laurent supposed that his one and only experience of the beginning stages had been interrupted by the attempt on his body. He'd had more pressing worries at the time than taking note of how the brush of his loosened silk clothes felt as his shirt slid up and over his head. He pressed his newly exposed heated limbs into the cool bed sheets partly for relief and partly to further explore this strange hyperawareness of his own skin.

During his first heat, any deliberate touch, even his own, would have been shadowed by the too-fresh recollection of the Alpha he'd just stopped. He'd spent the whole time with his hands fisted in the sheets rather than running over himself gently as they were now. He'd gritted his teeth and refused to do any of the things that might have abated his body's needs even a little, but found himself begging in vain for those things all the same.

This time was different. He might not be willing to open himself up to the mercies of a Beta's touch any more than he would take an Alpha to his bed, but Laurent saw little reason to be totally cruel to his body when so far it had not proven quite as cruel to him as he'd expected.

His warm hands traced lightly over his bare thighs, which shook a little in response. He let them fall open, making the already hard prominence of his cock stand out even more. Laurent ignored it for the moment in favour of skimming his hands up over the slight swell of his hips, and then inwards. 

One hand clutched at the sheets, not in enforced deprivation this time, but to give himself some kind of anchor. Once the sensitivity of heat and the expectation of more were thrown into the mix, even just running his fingertips through the fine pale hairs sloping downwards from his belly seemed like the most acute sensation he'd experienced in his life. 

He trailed determinedly down that path, and let just the tip of his index finger continue onwards, running slowly up the length of his cock, stopping just for a moment to swirl around the tip, before tracing back down the other side. His other fingers joined that one as it reached the smooth weight of his balls. He cupped himself lightly, a comfort and a tease. 

He longed to steamroll onwards and let his fingers walk their way even lower still, but Laurent wasn't quite ready for that. Not just yet, he told himself, when once he'd thought for sure that it would always be 'not ever'. 

He moved his fingers back up over his cock again instead, three at a time with his thumb tracing one of the veins on the top now, and applied some actual pressure as he stroked up towards the tip. A little more, a little firmer, a slight twist of his wrist now, and Laurent's lips fell slack in a sigh as he worked the sensitive tip before sliding back down again. 

He finally wrapped his hand fully around the base of himself, where a knot would form if this were an Alpha's cock he were holding. Laurent tried not to acknowledge the way his mouth watered at the thought. Because however good this might unexpectedly feel, what his body craved, more than safety (because it clearly didn't know what was best for it), more than some scentless Beta, and certainly more than the stroke of his own fingers, was blatantly still missing from the picture. 

Laurent tried to push away the remembrance of strong arms locked around him, the rich aroma of Alpha exertion and just the slightest hint of arousal in his nose, but in the absence of any freshly lingering Alpha fragrance within the walls of Acquitart, that was where his suddenly rebellious mind kept insisted on returning.

Just a faceless Alpha, he told himself, that was all he was thinking about. His instincts didn't care about the personality or history that came attached to those hard muscles and strong hands. It didn't mean anything.

He pointedly tried not to think about it as he tightened his grip, allowing his hand to finally, _finally_ , stop merely tantalising himself. His hips jerked into it, and Laurent gasped at the feeling, which was not enough and too much all at once. He was too responsive, and his hand was dry, giving too much friction. 

He let his hand reach down and backwards for the first time, and it only took a moment to find more than enough slick to use to wet his cock and make the slide more delicious than overwhelming. But once his fingers were there, he couldn't seem to make himself divert them back again, as much as his cock was hard and aching for it. There was a more pressing pulse of need just barely out of reach, and as if his fingers had a mind of their own, they sought it out.

The first press inwards made him bite his lip to stop the noises coming from his mouth from being audible to the guards outside. He didn't know why he bothered, since his gasping breaths sounded so loud to his own ears that even the people in the village outside the fortress's walls could probably hear him. A second finger joined the first, and Laurent pushed deeper, searching, but not quite managing to reach that core of want.

He'd thought intuitively rolling over to his knees would be repugnant, but there was no one here to loom over him and exult in the view. This wasn't subservience. It was just expediency. Laurent grabbed for a pillow to hold his hips in place, then reached back behind him.

And yes, that was better. That was _so much better_.

In a different world Laurent would have taken his time with it, working himself up to near completion again and again until he couldn't stand it anymore and had to give in. With the driving need of heat, however, he was already at that final stage. He couldn't stop his own touch even if he wanted to. His body knew what it needed, and it would have it.

His cock slid over the silk of the pillow covering, and Laurent finally found the rhythm he desperately needed.

When his fingers curled inside himself, despite his best intentions, he shouted out as his body went rigid and he spent himself into the sweat-soaked material. If there was an actual word on his lips, he didn't hear it.

Slowly his muscles released their tension and Laurent curled in place, trying to inhale in large gulps. Part of Laurent couldn't help but notice then that the cool air against his back felt wrong and that the pillow he now pulled under his head shouldn't have smelled only of dust and himself. He might be nearly boneless with physical release for the moment, but this ultimately hadn't been quite what his body wanted. He felt oddly unfulfilled.

It would still have to be enough for him when the next wave hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it only took, what, 26K words for me to get around to actually including a bit of smut in an A/B/O fic, and even then it's Laurent riding solo. Sounds fair, right? This is Laurent we're talking about. And did I give Laurent a bit of a free pass with his heat here, given how wrong it could have gone? Damn straight I did. Or rather, Damen did. Thanks Damen. I figured I'd continue the proud tradition of him screwing up the Regent's plans by being hard for him to predict. I just want my boy to be safe for once, ok? Fight me.
> 
> Also, fyi, I've now passed 50K words in my draft, which is about the total length I originally thought this fic would reach. Is it anywhere near finished, though? Hahahahaha… *cries*.


	9. Chapter 9

The whole ride back to the camp, Laurent felt stretched thin. Between the three days of his heat and the nights in the Akielon camp, it felt like a lifetime since he'd really slept. He felt almost like he was listing in the saddle, when usually Laurent's seat on a horse was unquestioned. It probably didn't help that the hard motion of the horse under him was fairly uncomfortable just now, with traces of the oversensitivity of heat still lingering. For that same reason, the fresh scent of Alpha reaching his nose for the first time in days felt like it physically grated at him as soon as he rode back into the encampment outside Breteau.

So all in all, he would have much preferred to just go collapse onto his mattress and worry about the world later. 

However, he couldn't ignore the fact that he'd had to isolate himself for days on end at a precarious time. Under any other circumstances he would already have taken full advantage of Damen's apparent willingness to cede ground to Laurent. Instead he'd been forced to give him time to think better of it or, if Laurent was _really_ unlucky, to actually start listening to Nikandros. Laurent had to head that possibility off quickly if he didn't want his failure to kill the prince-killer and his days of captivity to be for nought.

He might be exhausted, but Laurent was still thinking far more strategically than he had prior to the first 'meeting', when Laurent's real purpose had been less than diplomatic. They wouldn't be meeting in Akielos this time, he decided, let alone in the middle of a den already filled with snarling Akielon beasts. Laurent intended to have the advantage from now on.

"Tell the Prince of Akielos this," Laurent ordered. "The Prince of Vere thanks Prince Damianos for his unparalleled hospitality in hosting the Veretian party for the duration of our previous discussions. In order to cement our bond of equality, the Prince of Vere wishes that Prince Damianos should enjoy the same comforts inside his own encampment in Vere for as long as it takes to finish what was begun in Akielos."

"I doubt he'll respond well to the implied threat of being taken prisoner as payback," Jord warned quietly. "Your words could start a war."

"No," Laurent disagreed. "They won't. Not with this Prince."

When the messenger returned hours later, he looked strangely perplexed. 

"Prince Damianos said he appreciates your generosity and will happily accept your invitation to spend time with you in your encampment, at your pleasure," the messenger said. 

"'At my pleasure'," Laurent muttered. He _would_ choose that phrasing. "And?" Laurent prompted. If that was all, the messenger wouldn't look bothered.

"He laughed." The messenger's face was enough to tell Laurent that it had been with that strange delighted smile that crossed his face in the camp in Akielos whenever he was admiring Laurent's sharper edges as much as his smoother curves.

"You really intend to ally with him?" Jord said once the messenger was dismissed.

"I intend to come to a temporary arrangement that will benefit my cause," Laurent corrected. "We need more men. A solution appears to have presented itself."

"I'm not sure our own men will stand for it," Jord said honestly. "Fighting alongside Akielons would be hard enough, but the _prince-killer_ …"

"If _I_ can endure it, so can they," Laurent said harshly. "I will do whatever it takes to win against my uncle. And then I'll do what's necessary against Damianos as well."

They would all think him heartless for treating with his brother's killer just so he could kill his own uncle. Laurent didn't care. Let them question how he could even be an Omega at all, as cold as his blood clearly ran; he longed to leave their expectations fully shattered. 

"I know what I’m doing," Laurent assured. "If Akielos underestimates me and thinks they can sneak their influence into Vere under the guise of assistance, they will be stunned at the result. If my own troops think similarly, they will be equally shocked. Vere will emerge from this victorious in every respect. I'll make certain of it."

Jord nodded in obeisance, his eyes bright. "I know you will. The troops have confidence in that to a man. They believe in you."

Jord's optimism aside, that wasn't entirely accurate, but Laurent felt like he was getting closer to making it truth. Now the men saw that their Prince had found himself in the hands of a camp full of Alpha adversaries, the prince-killer included, and yet had emerged intact, having somehow talked his way to freedom. They looked at him with a different light in their eyes. Laurent just looked back dispassionately, as if to say: of course, how did you ever doubt it? 

They were starting to consider it as more than a distant possibility: their Prince might be an Omega, but he was more than that. He could be a worthy commander. He would be their King.

That was the mindset with which he would approach the treaty discussions. Damen wouldn't find him ruled by his emotions this time.

Though it wasn't Damen who found him at all, at least not at first. When an Akielon rider approached the boundary of Laurent's camp early the following morning, it wasn't the Prince of Akielos. Nor was it a simple messenger. 

Nikandros was alone, a single rider approaching like an emissary. But Laurent doubted that Damen had purposely sent him ahead. Nikandros, he thought, would be here on his own undertaking, as some kind of last-ditch effort to save Damen from himself probably. Clearly Damen hadn't started listening to him, then. Good. That suited Laurent well.

Laurent motioned for his guards to let their unexpected guest through. At his behest, the guards remained just far enough away to provide some semblance of privacy, but still close enough to intercede if needed. After all, Nikandros looked at Laurent with an expression that was dark and filled with a kind of intense dislike that would on another man, Akielon or otherwise, have likely indicated that he might be approaching with nefarious purposes. The expression on Laurent's face might have been similar the moment he'd first laid eyes on Damen. Yet Laurent still thought it unlikely that his soldiers would be needed to stay Nikandros's hand. Despite being a Prince, Laurent had rarely been on the receiving end of anything even close to absolute loyalty, but he still thought he recognised it when he saw it. Nikandros wouldn't act against the direct orders of his own Prince. And his Prince had ordered that Laurent wasn't to be touched.

"If you have _any_ honour at all, you will call these talks off and let our Prince ride south instead of remaining here," Nikandros struggled to say haltingly in Veretian, barely managing to wrap his tongue around the words. "He's already spared your life once. That's enough. He's not responsible for you now that you're back in your own country."

"Don't strain yourself. I speak your language well enough," Laurent informed him in Akielon. His fluency might not rival Damen's in Laurent's language (though he'd never actually admit as much), but he could certainly outdo Nikandros's attempt. Besides, it was probably better if his soldiers didn't understand whatever Nikandros intended to say to him now. 

"And I'm sure I'd love to hear why you think I should turn down an agreement that will benefit me," Laurent added. "I could use a laugh, and I do find Akielon attempts at logic so amusing."

Nikandros countered that insult by speaking Akielon slowly enough to make it clear that he doubted Laurent's claim of proficiency in the language. "You should know that your uncle has poor timing. He would have done better to attack a month earlier or later, when our Prince wasn't travelling so far to the north." He sounded like he still didn't believe that it wasn't Laurent himself who was attempting to wreak havoc in Nikandros's lands, but as if he would play along with the obvious lie for Damen's sake. 

Poor timing. Right. Laurent had no doubt that his Uncle had in actuality chosen his moment very specifically. He'd have been planning something for Laurent's heat regardless, but when he'd undoubtedly been made aware that Damen was in the region, it would have seemed like fate. He'd have known that Laurent wouldn't be able to resist going up directly against Damianos, prince-killer, when finally given the opportunity. And he'd equally have known that a sudden and direct confrontation between them, whether it was single combat or a battle where Laurent's men were outnumbered, wouldn't be in Laurent's favour. Whether it had ended with Laurent captured or killed outright, the timing was in fact perfect for the Regent's purposes. Or would have been, had Damen not absurdly just let him go.

"Even putting this little truce between princes aside, if I had been alone in Delpha when your message arrived, things would have gone very differently," Nikandros continued. "Makedon led the attacks on your Veretian villages after the first hit on ours, and he would have done so again and again, if not for the Prince. Even then, it was a close thing. None of the bannermen want to listen when the Prince says attacking you now would only weaken a potential ally against the real enemy." Nikandros obviously didn't want to listen to it either. "You'd be dead several times over if he wasn't protecting you. You _owe_ him."

Laurent really didn't need Nikandros to point that out. The knowledge that he owed his brother's killer his own life and freedom felt like an open wound. He wasn't about to just forget it any time soon, at least not until he found some way to wipe that debt clear.

But to Nikandros's eyes, Laurent's callous expression would have suggested otherwise. "He attacked and killed my brother. I attacked and tried to kill him. And now we sit down together and plan to kill a common enemy instead. It sounds to me like we're on equal footing. And even if that weren't the case, I don't think you're quite fool enough to believe you could convince me to act against my own interests just out of a sense of fair play. So what really made you decide to ambush me in my own camp?"

" _Kastor_."

"Ah," Laurent said, leaning back. "Yes. Is it difficult admitting that the lying, cheating Veretian shares your doubts when your own beloved Prince won't listen to a word of it?"

Nikandros scowled. "The fact that he's stopped hearing it from _me_ doesn't necessarily mean he'll never hear it. If you're going to take advantage of his desire to help you, the least you could do in return is convince him that Kastor is a real threat."

Laurent prevaricated, "Damen has already indicated he won't hear about Kastor's treachery from me any more than he apparently has paid attention to you." Nikandros looked slightly shocked and appalled to hear Laurent refer to his Prince by his shortened name, which made Laurent suddenly far more determined to use it in front of him.

"He will, though," Nikandros admitted grudgingly. "He can't stop himself from hearing you. He hangs off your every word."

"Well that's certainly good to know, heading into treaty discussions," Laurent commented mildly. "I'm sure it'll make it easier to get what I want."

Nikandros looked frustrated. "What you want will ruin him. If he agrees to stay here and leaves Kastor to do as he pleases in Ios in his absence, he'll regret it."

"Is that supposed to be a disincentive? Besides, Damen has yet to demonstrate to me that he really knows how to feel regret," Laurent said.

"He can't help you anyway if Kastor's plans get him killed," Nikandros implored.

"Oh, I doubt he'll be killed before granting me the military assistance I need. Plans to overthrow monarchs take time to put into action, you know," Laurent said flippantly.

"There may be no real military assistance to give," Nikandros said. "Even at their Prince's direction, and even for the opportunity to kill your countrymen, the bannermen of the north are stubborn enough that they won't flock to risk their lives in an internal Veretian power struggle. Makedon in particular will probably just sit back and toast to the idea of Vere tearing itself apart, and without him the count of soldiers will be more than halved. Not to mention the other commanders will hesitate if Makedon doesn't fall in line. I don't think you appreciate the position you've put the Prince in by asking this of him."

"I didn't put him anywhere," Laurent said. "Damen chose this position for himself. He could have executed me. He could have kept me imprisoned. There would have been consequences for your country, but he didn't have to heed them. That was his own choice."

A servant appeared in that moment to announce the arrival of the Prince of Akielos and his contingent, which Laurent saw was no larger or more heavily armed than the group of men Laurent had brought with him into Akielos. Perhaps it was for parity, in response to Laurent's message. More likely, Laurent thought, it was overconfidence. 

"Good to see my Kyros and my future ally are getting along so well without me," Damen commented. "Am I allowed to know what you were discussing?"

Nikandros looked like he didn't know whether he should be prostrating or standing unrepentant. If Damen were already King, Laurent had the feeling there wouldn't have even been a question; Nikandros would have been on his knees. As it was, they were apparently still enough like friends and equals rather than ruler and subject that Nikandros's back remained straight. He didn't try to explain himself, either.

Laurent would be glad to do it for him, though, just because it amused him. "I believe Nikandros wished to make known his concern that you letting me leave your camp unharmed means that you're now going to just roll over for me and show me all of your vulnerable spots." 

"Only if you mean that literally. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Damen offered provocatively. 

Laurent said too-pleasantly, "Of course. I'd be more than happy to scratch that itch for you. With my knife."

Nikandros looked like he'd have chosen death by boiling over being present for this. Well, he had no one to blame but himself. "Couldn't we at least have reinstituted the 'no weapons' rule?" he asked long-sufferingly.

"What's the point?" Damen asked. "It seems to me that Laurent's tongue is his sharpest weapon, and he won't ever be convinced to leave that at the door."

"I don't recall giving you permission to address me so casually," Laurent said, his tone still light but his expression steely.

"Sorry," Damen said, not sounding it. "I must have assumed you had returned the favour when I said I'd rather you call me Damen."

Nikandros looked pained. "You're not here to flirt," he reminded them.

"We're not?" Damen asked.

" _We're not_ ," Laurent said.

"Pity," Damen said. "The way I hear it, many successful deals in Vere are struck over pillow talk."

"Not with this Veretian," Laurent denied vehemently.

"Honestly, I give up," Nikandros muttered. "I promise I'll speak well of you in public, but I won't lie to your father when he asks why you were killed. 'Death by beautiful, cunning blond Omega'; I'm certain King Theomedes won't even be surprised."

"I think it's clear that Prince Laurent now has grander schemes in mind than my immediate death," Damen said. 

"Yes," Laurent said. "Shall we go actually discuss that? Believe it or not, I didn't invite you here to stand around outside and make suggestive remarks."

For the third time in barely a week and a half, Laurent found himself alone in a tent with Damen. This time their surroundings were more opulent, designed with Veretian comfort in mind. Damen clearly looked at it with the uncultured eye of an Akielon and thought it overdressed. It was the same look he'd given Laurent more than once, though clearly for very different reasons.

The tent had a table laid out, and two cushioned chairs facing each other. It was prepared with the thought that they might be here hashing out the minute details for a while. Laurent would prefer to spend as little time as possible having to look at his brother's killer. So although Laurent's first instinct was to be difficult and draw the whole thing out to earn himself the advantage of his opponent's annoyance and impatience, in this case that would be more torture for Laurent than for Damen. It wouldn't work anyway. Damen seemed only too happy to waste his time in Laurent's presence.

He let Damen take his seat first, luxuriating just for a moment in being finally able to stand head and shoulders above him instead of the other way around. Then Laurent slid down to join him at the table.

"No chains?" Damen remarked. "I was led to believe you wanted to equalise our relationship."

"I've no need to take on a wild Akielon as a pet," Laurent said. "If you overstep your bounds, it won't be imprisonment you have to worry about. I won't be so lenient with you."

Damen shrugged. "That's fair, since my soldiers won't be lenient on you and yours if harm comes to me. I believe in Vere you call that an impasse."

"Not at all," Laurent denied. "An impasse suggests no opportunity to proceed."

"How am I supposed to move forward with someone who could turn on me at any moment?" asked Damen. "Letting you walk freely away from my camp was one thing. Your army was too small to turn around and really challenge mine, and I think at the time you had more immediate concerns than attacking me again anyway."

Laurent tried not to blush at that barely-veiled reference. 

"But just because I believe you about your uncle doesn't mean I'm just willing to blindly accept everything you say. You're Veretian. I don't trust you," Damen announced bluntly. "Let's be clear about that from the start." Even when he was finally in a slightly more official setting he still showed no signs of being a born negotiator. Laurent wasn't surprised.

"That's probably the first intelligent thing you've said to me," Laurent replied. "There may be some hope of changing my opinion of Akielon mental acuity after all. Personally, I don't trust _anyone_. It's kept me alive so far. That doesn't mean I don't still have people I'm willing to work with. At some point trust becomes incidental."

"Trust is important."

"To you? Yes, I gathered. Apparently it means so much to you that you're willing to risk everything to stand by it," Laurent said. "You should rethink that. I told you men born into a lesser position than they'd like are dangerous. Bastards are a prime example. It's why they're taboo in Vere. From what I understand, your brother's situation was even worse, for he really did think he was destined to be King once. Then you came along and took away the thing that meant everything to him. Does that sound familiar? If you don't trust me, you shouldn't trust him either."

"I think we'll make that a condition of any agreement we come to: don't talk about Kastor again," Damen said. "He's not plotting against my father, or against me."

"You're as blinded by familial love as I was when I attacked you," Laurent warned. "But if you want to see your kingdom torn apart, Vere will stand by and applaud. And if you go and get yourself killed because you trusted your brother, I'll only mourn the fact that I wasn't the one who put you down," Laurent said honestly. "I'm sure, though, that I'll eventually content myself with the knowledge that you at least died exactly the way my brother did: by being too focused on honour to see that the man he faced didn't feel the same. It's nothing you don't richly deserve."

"Yes, you've made it very clear that you want me dead, thank you," Damen said. "Reminding me of that probably isn't the best way to get me to help you."

"Do you expect me to beg and scrape for your forgiveness? I won't ever do that," swore Laurent. "You killed the one person in my life who honestly cared for me. How would you act towards someone who did that to you?"

"I'd come for them as you did, but in open combat. And I wouldn't fail," Damen said. His expression was understanding. Laurent hated the sight of it.

"Good," said Laurent. "There's no reason we shouldn't be able to work together, then. Because from what I understand, your father is the person you care most about, and my uncle is trying to have him killed. He hasn't succeeded yet, but that's all the more reason to stop him before he can. Don't fail."

Damen drummed his fingertips on the table, as if in thought. "I could challenge your uncle on my own rather than risk you betraying me as soon as you think you don't need me anymore. My father would probably even send men from the southern armies to join me and bolster my forces. As you've pointed out, he's likely to be in favour of the armies of Akielos making progress into Vere."

"Yes, by all means, why don't you send a message to Ios outlining your plans so that my uncle's stooges can intercept it and tell him everything. I can't see a single way that could go wrong," Laurent said dryly.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"It's called being intelligent," Laurent condescended. "I know that's likely a foreign concept to you, but try to keep up."

"An alliance between us definitely won't work if you're set on believing I'm just some senseless Alpha barbarian," Damen said.

"How hard it must be to be appraised as an Alpha," Laurent said sarcastically.

"You know, you might have reason for complaint elsewhere, but it seems to me I'm the only one being judged by my gender here."

"Are you?" Laurent challenged. "I doubt your first words upon arriving for negotiations with another Alpha or a Beta would have been an implied request to take them to bed."

"If they looked like you?" Damen said. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"So you'll just judge me by my looks instead of my gender. You'll excuse me if I'm unimpressed by the distinction."

"Your looks are just part of the package," Damen assured him. Laurent wasn't assured at all. "I'm happy for you to impress me with your intelligence as well. Why don't you start by telling me how you see a partnership between us working," Damen suggested.

"Luckily for you, it's simple enough," Laurent advised him. "The soldiers of Vere may currently be loyal to their lords and, by proxy, to my uncle, but I'm still their Prince. If you help me take out their commanders and take their forts, I believe I can convince them to join me instead. Together we can clear a path to my uncle."

Damen looked unconvinced. "I'd rather rely on my own men than yours, especially if they're men who've just proved themselves to have shifting loyalties. And I can't imagine those regional lords who are in your uncle's pocket will just roll over and let us pass because their Prince is with us, or nicely decide to attack us one by one instead of joining forces. You may not be given the chance to convert the Veretian soldiers to your cause if we find ourselves surrounded and outnumbered early on. Luckily, I've been told I'm a relatively accomplished strategist."

Cocky bastard, thought Laurent.

"You think I'm going to give you free reign on planning an incursion into my own country?" Laurent asked. "I don't think so. I assure you that I'm capable of coming up with a way to make the route work in our favour."

Damen replied flatly, "I'm not your slave to use as you please and then discard when you feel like it. If you want Akielos's help, you're going to have to accept that I'll have my share of input. You're the one who was determined that we should have equality between us."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "So I was."

"But you don't expect me to agree that we're equals," Damen sighed.

"No, I don't," Laurent said. "But then I suppose you have no choice but to act as if you acknowledge it. After all, you need me as much as I need you. For one thing, I doubt you'll have enough men to move through Vere without me. I'm reliably informed that you may not be able to promise the full army of your northern regions," Laurent pointed out.

Damen looked pointedly to the entrance of the tent, where Nikandros would probably be hovering out of sight.

Laurent leaned back into his chair casually. "I'm sure it should make things easier if you can tell your northern bannermen that Prince Laurent of Vere has extended an open invitation for them to march all the way into the heart of enemy territory, with my blessing to claim any spoils that come of whatever opposition we face. Except, obviously, for the land itself or any Veretian men we take prisoner; they'll belong to me. But even without those, there are arms and horses and riches enough in the forts and demesnes held by my uncle's supporters. I hear the funds needed to defend Delfeur from Vaskian raiders and the like are always in short supply. In combination with being given leave to wet their swords with Veretian blood, that ought to appeal to the more stubborn men like Makedon."

"Killing Veretians would interest them, yes," Damen conceded. "But if you think men like Makedon care overly about money, you don't know them at all, it seems."

"No," Laurent admitted, "I suppose I don't. What kind of men are we talking about, then? Other than bloodthirsty and stubborn, obviously."

"Makedon's a man of honour." Laurent snorted, disbelieving. Damen continued as if he hadn't heard. "That means more to him than money. He's proud. Too proud, perhaps. He won't bend the knee for a man he doesn't respect. He supports my father as King and fights for him as required, but even my father can't always keep him reined in any more than Nikandros can."

"He's an Alpha, I assume," Laurent said. He didn't even need to see Damen's nod; almost all of the Akielon soldiers were Alphas, and it would be strange to install a Beta general.

Then again, Laurent was an Omega commander of an army mostly made up of Alphas. Clearly there were some exceptions.

"He is," Damen said. "But it'd be more of a problem for him that you're Veretian than that you're an Omega. In fact, being an Omega capable of commanding an army of Alphas might actually impress him, as long as he doesn't think they're just trailing behind you like milksops or lovelorn dupes."

That latter possibility was why Nikandros didn't think Makedon would follow Damen if he struck a deal with Laurent, clearly. Laurent would have to find a way around that. But if it was that easy to make Damen stop acting like an annoying suitor, Laurent would have accomplished it already.

"If honour is what appeals," Laurent thought out loud, "then I can certainly offer to restore it by having the man who ordered your villages to be raided executed at the end of their northward ride."

Damen looked contemplative at that. "That could work," he said. And Laurent knew then that he had him. Any other discussions would be details. Damen would offer him the men he needed to take Vere back from his uncle's influence.

In the end, the negotiation for the treaty hardly had the official nature that would be expected of an agreement between princes, and neither did the signing of the agreement have all of the bells and whistles. Neither of them could, after all, even acknowledge the existence of such an agreement without risking their respective kingdom's backlash. But when Laurent walked out of the tent, he was left with a strange certainty that Damen would stand by his word.

It was dangerous to think that way. Laurent knew all too well that Damianos of Akielos was not as always strictly honourable. But Laurent had little choice at this stage anyway. If he was going to do something as repellent as throw his lot in with the man who killed his brother, Laurent was at least going to get every possible drop of benefit out of it, because that was the only way he could stomach it.

"An army is not a courting gift," Nikandros beseeched quietly after the basic terms of the agreement were announced to the gathered men. Laurent didn't think he was supposed to overhear it, but Arles had provided him with ample training in listening in on private conversations, even if Laurent had rarely liked what he'd heard.

"Based on additional military support being just about all my father talks about when the topic of my eventual marriage comes up, I'm sure he, at least, would beg to differ," Damen pointed out. Laurent's father would have as well, for that matter, Laurent recalled.

Not that this was a courtship, of course. Just the idea of it made him shudder with distaste.

"And what will you do when your father finds out you've moved his troops into Vere without telling him?" Nikandros asked.

Damen said, "I doubt Father's first thought will be that I've teamed up with Vere's Crown Prince. I'm sure I can come up with another story he'll believe."

" _You_ can?" Nikandros said, sounding disbelieving. Laurent concurred; as far as he could tell, Damen would be a horrifically bad liar.

"All right," Damen admitted. "You can."

"I would much prefer to have no part in this," Nikandros protested. 

"No you wouldn't," Damen contradicted. "Who would try and talk me out of doing things I shouldn't if you weren't around?"

"The key word being 'try'. You hardly ever listen."

"But I still appreciate the effort," said Damen. "Besides, you love to say 'I told you so'."

"Not this time," Nikandros said forebodingly. "If I'm right about this, there'll be no one to say it to."

Laurent looked forward to that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't recall any canonical reference to whether or not Nikandros speaks or understands any Veretian, but he's Kyros of the territory bordering Vere, so I figure it would behoove him to know at least the basics. Plus Damen would have mocked him endlessly if he were personally as fluent as a native but then Nikandros couldn't at least say 'Hello, get back on your own side of the border or die, thanks'. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Though if you know otherwise, feel free to tell me.


	10. Chapter 10

In a different life, where Laurent had perhaps been born under a lucky star instead of amidst starburst banners, his most important alliance probably wouldn't have been formed with someone whom he had every reason to hate and still really wanted dead despite needing his cooperation for now. Failing that, that alliance at least preferably wouldn't have been with the kind of obnoxious Alpha who would blatantly ignore Laurent's clear enmity towards him in favour of deciding that Laurent's single summons to enter his encampment was in fact a standing open invitation to return whenever he liked, including in the small hours of the morning.

When Laurent opened his eyes to find he wasn't alone in his tent, he nearly fell out of bed and onto his face as he scrambled for his sword. For it wasn't some keen servant who'd thought to prepare things earlier than usual for his Prince's morning routine. Even though he was only backlit by the pale dawn light, the man's identity was still distinguishable to Laurent, who'd never be able to mistake that face. Standing just feet away, watching Laurent experience a moment of half-awake panic but himself looking utterly unperturbed by having the sharp end of a sword pointed in his direction, was Damen. 

"Relax," Damen said. "I have no intention of hurting you."

It was ridiculous that Laurent actually believed him, given everything.

"Which is just as well," added Damen, "because it would have been far too easy to do you harm. Your security in this camp is useless. You should look into that. Or I could, if you'd let me. You're the one who said that it's important to Akielos as well as Vere to keep you alive, remember?"

Laurent was, to be honest, somewhat at a loss just then. How Damen had even made it past the guards outside, Laurent didn't know. He'd have suspected a stealth attack, but it seemed unlikely given that Damen had so far come across as surprisingly, even dangerously, straightforward. Anyway, Laurent thought that he'd have woken up before Damen could actually make it into his tent if there had been any sounds of a scuffle outside. Perhaps the guards had instead just been asleep on the job, like Laurent himself would prefer to still be. Or they might have simply been so stunned by the way Damen had suddenly swept into the tent like he owned the place, nothing to see here, just a prince entering a royal tent (never mind that it was the _wrong_ prince), that they hadn't even immediately thought to object. 

Even when he was in a rival army's camp, where he should be fairly powerless, Damen couldn't seem to stop acting like he was wholly in charge. It was beyond irritating.

Never mind military assistance and life debts and promises to give fair warning. Laurent had been asleep just minutes ago, and now he was blearily staring at Damen's too-awake face. And to make things even worse, the scent of awakening Alpha interest was beginning to pervade his private tent. Seriously, how was he expected to hold off his intense desire to kill this man?

But it would be a waste, Laurent decided regretfully, to kill Damen now, before he'd actually been useful to Laurent. Laurent idly wondered whether refraining from killing Damen when he so obviously deserved it counted as adequate repayment for Damen not executing Laurent when he was entitled to. Sadly he somehow doubted that kind of reasoning would have been quite up to Auguste's meticulous standards of honour. Then again, Auguste might have thought differently had he actually seen the way Damen was looking at his little brother, so it was hard to say for sure.

"What are you doing here?" Laurent hissed, trying to gather his dignity around him like a shield, as if he didn't overly care that Damen had caught him sleeping and clad in only his nightclothes. Unfortunately, Laurent thought 'dignity' was probably a long-forgotten concept, judging by the way Damen stared upon seeing Laurent dressed less than immaculately for the first time. Laurent was only too aware that he was wearing a single thin layer that barely concealed the outlines of his body. The shirt was open at the neck so that the view of the dip of Laurent's collarbone was for once unimpeded. Damen's eyes lingered there.

"We need to talk," Damen explained distantly, his attention clearly elsewhere.

"And you thought inside my tent at sunrise was the right place for it?" 

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Damen said. Laurent could tell he still thought it was a good idea. Damen's expression said that he was probably internally congratulating himself on having had the best idea ever. Laurent wanted to wipe that self-satisfaction off his face.

Laurent said, "It seems to me you were wrong. So get out of here before I _put_ you out like a dog."

Damen's expression now said: I'd like to see you try. It made Laurent itch to do more than just try, especially when he ignored Laurent and said, "What if I say no?"

"Then I'll give you that warning you wanted, and I'll put a sword in your hand myself if necessary, and we'll end this 'alliance' right now," Laurent informed him. "My desire to have more men at my disposal will only get you so far. If you make yourself more trouble than you're worth, I'll take my chances on my own with Uncle."

"All right," Damen agreed, a little too quickly. "Neither of us wants that."

Laurent narrowed his eyes. "Stop trying to test me," he said. "You're far too obvious about it."

"Just getting the lay of the land. Besides, we really do need to talk. In private. This isn't something you want brought up for the first time in front of the men."

Something about the way Damen said that last part was strangely convincing. He finally lowered his sword.

"At least get out and let me get dressed first, you heathen," Laurent ordered harshly. 

Laurent made Damen wait on him outside his tent for considerably longer than it actually took to lace up his clothing. That was what he got for waking Laurent up before the sun had even had time to properly rise. Laurent had no problem with acting petty when it suited him.

"Enter," Laurent eventually ordered, managing to sound much more imperious now that he wasn't at an immediately apparent disadvantage. He was glad to see that Damen looked disappointed to see him in a more austere outfit.

"This had better be important," Laurent said, and prompted Damen to speak with a wave of his hand.

"Oh, it is. Several tents in my encampment were set on fire in the middle of the night," Damen said. "And one of my men was attacked from behind in the dark and brutally beaten. He said he was caught unaware at the edge of the tent line. He didn't understand what his attackers said, either to each other or to him, but he still recognised the sound of the language."

"Veretian," Laurent sighed. 

"This wasn't your uncle's work." 

"No," Laurent agreed. "It sounds more like aggression on a personal level than an attack designed for maximum fatalities and damage. It's an act of frustration and resentment, not strategy. Though Uncle certainly wouldn't be sad to know that discord is being sown between our forces even without him having to pay anyone off." 

"Assuming, of course, that none of your men have his gold in their pockets," Damen pointed out. "And don't even try and tell me that this wasn't your men."

Laurent didn't deny it, only saying, "I didn't order it."

"I know that," Damen assured him. "It's hardly your style either. I mean, it's not as if they targeted _me_." 

"They'd have wanted to. You've no idea how much you're hated within Vere."

"If you're any indication, then I wouldn't exactly say you've made a secret of it," Damen said.

"Well apparently my personal feelings toward you might not be quite that obvious to my men," Laurent said, annoyed. "I doubt they'd be so frustrated if they didn't at least partly suspect that I'm willing to just hand control of them over to you. They're not just lashing out at you; they're testing me as well. If I take Akielos's side by punishing my men for something they'd assume that I should tacitly support, especially when I haven't explicitly forbidden it, my troops will assume I'm not the one making that decision. All they'll see is an Omega bending over for an Alpha." Laurent's glare challenged Damen to say anything suggestive about that, but for once he seemed willing to take Laurent's problem entirely seriously. He had been since before this conversation even started, Laurent realised. "Which is obviously why you're here like this." Not just to catch him off guard. "If the men get any whiff of you censuring me for their actions, it'll only make things worse. Better to keep any discussion of it private and unofficial."

Laurent didn't want to feel grateful to Damen. He reminded himself that Damen wanted this alliance to survive. That was the only reason why he cared whether Laurent's men, like everyone else, wrote him off as some weak Omega.

It was one step forward and two steps back. The men had seemed like they'd almost stopped seeing it, at least for a few days. Laurent had secured his freedom from Akielos against the odds and they'd seen a strong, capable leader riding back into camp. Barely over a week later and they were back to dismissing him as just an Omega. But Laurent had known it wouldn't be simple to gain their respect. He'd known he was going to have to keep proving himself to them, to everyone, again and again.

Laurent swore, "It won't happen again. I'll make sure of it. If my men are currently questioning my authority, I'll provide them with a definitive answer to that." 

"I don't doubt it. I'm fairly certain you'd already have managed that by now if you hadn't been otherwise occupied," Damen said. Laurent narrowed his eyes. It was hard to know whether Damen was mocking him, especially with that potential veiled reference to his heat, which Damen must have been aware of by now, if he hadn't known it was coming all along. At the very least, Damen would have been able to smell the remnants of it on him from the first moment he'd come across Laurent and Nikandros talking, the same way the Alphas among his men had unconsciously orientated towards him like plants seeking sunlight straight after his journey back from Acquitart. 

"So then all of this is partly your fault for keeping me locked up away from my troops for several days, isn't it?" Laurent pointed out, trying to keep the topic of conversation diverted away from the other few days during which he'd been absent.

Damen said, "I'll take some responsibility, yes. I mean, I'd blame your Captain for not supervising them and keeping them in line while you were unavailable, but I recall he was chained up in my camp for a few days as well, so that probably didn't help things. You know, I didn't mean to make things harder for you on your return."

"Your concern is touching," Laurent said sarcastically.

"My concern is real. You might not believe that I understand some of what you face, but I'm not as ignorant as you like to think."

Laurent made a disbelieving noise, but said, "For once it's not _your_ inanity that might be the problem. Tell me, should I expect mob-minded retaliation if your men don't get their pound of flesh from the perpetrators?" Laurent asked.

Damen warned, "It won't be without consequences. My men will be even more unwilling to work with yours than they otherwise might have been," Damen said. "But they already have standing orders not to attack your men without my express orders, so no, they won't retaliate directly. The first hit is free. The next one will draw blood, and not all of it will be Akielon, I guarantee you that."

"Are we still talking about my men's attack?" Laurent asked.

Damen's lips twitched like he was suppressing a smile. "I don't know. Are we?"

"No, we're done talking altogether," Laurent decided. "It would seem I have far more important things to do with my morning than humouring you. See yourself out. Apparently you can make your way through my camp just fine on your own."

Damen did leave then, but Laurent got the feeling that it was more because he had his own things to do back at his camp than because Laurent had wanted him gone. Even when Laurent was getting his way, Damen managed to make it seem frustrating.

When Jord arrived at Laurent's tent a few minutes later, having been promptly fetched by a servant, Laurent crossed his arms in front of him and stared down his Captain. He remained silent, expectant.

"I'm sorry," Jord said, not even trying to pretend that he didn't know exactly why he'd been called there. "I only heard the men talking about it this morning, after the fact."

"You know who's responsible," Laurent said.

"Several of them, yes," Jord said. "I can find out the other names."

"Don't bother," Laurent said. "Would I be correct in thinking that they more or less represent the common mindset among the men?"

Jord looked uncomfortable. "It's not like they don't trust you, Your Highness."

"Oh," Laurent said, "but I think that's exactly what it's like. The men don't believe I can stand up to what they see as a stronger influence."

"It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't the prince-killer," Jord said.

"Yes, it would be. It will always be a problem as long as my men think that I'm capable of being unduly influenced by _anyone_ ," Laurent countered. "If they believed I was in control of the prince-killer rather than the other way around, the way they seemed to before I actually formed an alliance with him, then they'd be laughing about it, not striking out ineffectually. So it seems the men still don't trust my resolve. We'll have to do something about that. I suppose for starters I'll have to take a firmer and more personal hand in their training."

If by the end of the day Laurent's soldiers were making pained noises and limping their way to their respective tents to lick their (often literal) wounds, they only had themselves and their fellow soldiers to blame. It wasn't like Laurent was taking out his own frustrations on them. Not at all.

"I think it's clear they're willing to follow your orders, even against their better judgement," Jord said after another full day of even harsher training.

"Here in camp perhaps," Laurent said. "What about when it matters? When their lives are on the line? When they have to fight alongside the Akielons, even? Will they listen to me then, no matter what?"

"I think they will. But we can't know for sure until they're actually tested under those circumstances."

"That's not good enough," Laurent said.

"You can't expect the men to trust you if you won't trust them," Jord said, sounding eminently reasonable about it.

"I don't trust anyone," Laurent said. "That's the point. They should be glad of it. It means they can be sure that I don't trust the Akielons any more than they do."

"But do you trust _them_ more than you do the Akielons?" Jord asked. 

It was rhetorical, because of course the answer was yes, but Laurent took his point. Maybe part of the problem was that Laurent's men were by and large more simplistic than the courtiers and royalty Laurent was used to dealing with. They didn't necessarily understand Laurent's reticence in relying on others. To them, forming an alliance must have seemed like a show of trust, while Laurent hadn't had the time or opportunity to really demonstrate his faith in any of them except for his original Prince's Guard from Arles.

"Please just tell me this doesn't boil down to some Alpha jealousy thing," Laurent sighed.

Jord just shrugged.

Great, Laurent thought. Well obviously he'd have to find a way to show them that although Damen might bring with him the promise of more men, his own men were more important. As he'd told Damen himself, if it came to it he'd face his uncle without the Akielon soldiers. That's what he'd intended to do all along. But he couldn't do it without the men of Vere.

Laurent narrowed his eyes, but thoughtfully.

Over the next few days, in between making his men's lives hell (otherwise known as running manoeuvres) and talking strategy with Jord (or, under protest, with Damen), Laurent managed to also lead his troops to head off a two raiding parties intended to be sent from Vere into Akielos. It was well-timed, for an actual mission was far more unifying than drills, and Laurent's ability to initiate a working plan into action without anyone standing over his shoulder and telling him what to do was finally showcased. 

Besides, it amused Laurent that he was finally nominally performing the exact duty he'd been sent to the border to accomplish: clearing raiders from the foothills around the border. It just so happened that these raiders weren't from an enemy kingdom, but rather his own.

Laurent couldn't do much, though, about the incursion from paid Vaskian raiders who never set foot close enough to the Akielos-Vere border to come within his purview. Nikandros's bannermen who had remained in Akielos had been well-warned of the possibility of imminent attacks coming their way, but there were still Akielon losses. Part of Laurent wanted to be glad of that. Another part of him felt constantly tense with the knowledge of it, though, expecting to see soldiers from Akielos spilling back over the border any day now, looking for payback. Vaskian perpetrators or not, there would be no doubt about which country was ultimately responsible.

Much like he'd done within his own camp, though, Damen outright forbid retaliation. Laurent wondered whether news of that was carried back to King Theomedes, and if so, how he would react to what might be perceived as cowardice by someone without the relevant information. Damen seemed relatively unconcerned, suggesting he had some kind of plan in place, but Laurent found it difficult to just trust his judgement on interpersonal matters given the evidence of just how much that judgement was flawed. 

It was an important enough matter that Laurent had assumed that they would discuss it in some kind of official meeting in a neutral location, probably with Nikandros hovering over them trying to make sure Damen wasn't too lenient for his own good. Instead, Damen just casually showed up alone at Laurent's camp without warning. _Yet again_.

It wasn't even surprising at this stage.

Despite Laurent's best efforts to keep him at a distance, Damen had apparently taken their little détente as ample reason to suddenly be underfoot more than strictly necessary. It was at the point where Laurent somehow, in the space of weeks, had even become _used_ to seeing Damen. When he spied Damen right in the middle of the Veretian camp, or even ducking through the flaps of Laurent's own tent, Laurent no longer immediately and instinctively reached for his sword. That was an unwanted and likely dangerous adaptation. It was lucky that Damen was apparently too guileless to really use it against Laurent.

And too much of an idiot to look after his own interests properly as well, Laurent thought. On this occasion, instead of talking about the latest attack in Akielos as Laurent expected, Damen started pointing to sections of Laurent's map and offering detailed advice on how he would counter Veretian strategy, based on Akielon planning and strategies. Laurent leaned against the desk and bestowed Damen with an incredulous stare. How had this idiot even survived this long?

"I suppose," Laurent said wryly, "that you're just going to freely provide me with all the details I could ever need about your tactics, as if we're never likely to face each other across the battlefield?"

"Well when you put it that way…"

"I don't think Nikandros would approve."

"No," Damen admitted, "he's already voiced his reservations so many times his throat is probably growing sore from it."

They were an odd pair, Laurent considered, not for the first time. Damen and Nikandros were somehow almost as close as brothers, with a camaraderie that wasn't overly hampered by their differences in rank. It said everything about them that Nikandros had not long ago ridden out to confront a rival Prince without his own Prince's permission, in the obviously fairly secure knowledge that in doing so he wasn't seriously risking having his head removed for treason. And then there was the way Nikandros wasn't put off when Damen kept ignoring his advice, always just offering more of it unsolicited in case this time, maybe, it had more of an impact. 

Laurent might have mentioned to Jord some weeks prior how there were benefits to having someone who would question royalty when necessary, but he doubted he'd ever personally have anyone willing to just keep pushing him like that when he needed it. He'd never have anything quite like the two of them did.

Not now, at least. For it might have been quite a lot like that between Auguste and Laurent, though with Laurent more taking on Nikandros's role instead of the position of would-be ruler. He doubted Auguste would ever have tried to treat Laurent with the kind of benevolent disregard that Nikandros seemed to put up with, though. If he had, Laurent would have given him an earful.

But that potential future had been stolen from Laurent by the man who was currently running his fingertip along the inked line of a gully on Laurent's most detailed map of central Vere. Laurent couldn't afford to lose sight of that truth.

Damen was saying, "This channel, well off any of the roads, would be ideal for a messenger to get through to Arles quickly and likely unchallenged, assuming you do actually have anyone trustworthy inside that pit of vipers who you could coordinate with. On the other hand, the road closest to this point would be your best bet to –"

"Stop." 

Laurent's head hurt. 

"You don't agree?" Damen asked.

Laurent had agreed with pretty much everything Damen had said in the last half an hour. That was the problem. He didn't like having to acknowledge that Damen had good ideas, sometimes perhaps better than his own, and was capable of being logical. That when he openly challenged Laurent's existing notions, he was, a lot of the time, actually right. Whatever happened to Akielons being brainless, and their Alphas in particular being nothing but mindless muscle? Laurent had always enjoyed that image of his enemies, and had no desire to be disillusioned of it, especially by this man of all people.

It was bizarre, though, because there Damen was giving infuriatingly good martial advice, but Laurent knew based on experience that any moment now Damen might smile at Laurent and act in a decidedly irrational way. Laurent had spent five years training himself to analyse the layers of other people's motivations, but that kind of inconsistency was something outside his realm of experience. He didn't quite know what to do with it.

"We're done for the day," Laurent announced suddenly. He needed air. "I have to go run some drills with my troops. Jord's probably letting them slack off by now. He thinks that early morning starts should mean early afternoon finishes."

"Whereas you would never be so nice," Damen said, amused.

"Never," Laurent agreed seriously. "They'll never respect me if I am."

Laurent certainly hadn't intended his words as an incitement to tag along, but Damen never did seem to need actual invitations. He was adamant about doing as he pleased. Laurent was put somewhat on the back foot yet again by how cheerfully Damen cut a regal line across his camp, so that somehow Laurent ended up being the one to follow the outsider to his own training grounds.

"I really don't need your help to direct my soldiers through basic drills," Laurent bit out when Damen lounged against a tree, settling in to observe.

"Of course not," Damen said. "I'm just here to get an idea of what we're working with. It won't really help to map out strategies if your men don't have the specific skills necessary to actually put them into action."

There was that unassailable logic again. Laurent gritted his teeth.

Laurent seriously considered inviting Damen to fight with him instead of letting him stand back and watch, just to have an opportunity to hit him with no real consequences. With his luck, though, Laurent would probably end up accidentally killing him now, when he ironically needed _not_ to do that just yet. Or, possibly even worse, Damen might beat Laurent in a fight in front of Laurent's men, which would only cement in their minds that Damen was the dominant Alpha and Laurent couldn't quite take him on. So no, he'd have to just settle for a bout with his men instead.

"You're joining them?" Damen called out when Laurent drew his sword. He sounded surprised. 

"My wrestling abilities may leave something to be desired, but I was a prince long before I presented as Omega; do you think, given that, that I wouldn't be able to handle a sword?" Laurent said.

"I never doubted it," said Damen, but his expression said: show me.

When Laurent dispatched his challengers even quicker than usual, not to mention with a bit more of a flourish, Laurent certainly was not showing off for his Alpha audience, at least no more than he usually would when he deemed it necessary to forcibly adjust someone's expectations of him.

"You fight well," Damen praised as soon as Laurent signalled that he didn't require any more opponents. 

He looked genuinely admiring, though that might easily have been because he'd just enjoyed the sight and scent of Laurent working up a bit of a sweat. Usually that thought would have had Laurent snapping irritably at him. However, Laurent couldn't help but notice that the silently implied 'for an Omega' that usually accompanied favourable comments on Laurent's swordsmanship seemed to be absent just now. That was surprising enough to for once make Laurent hold his tongue. 

"I'm looking forward to clashing blades with you one day," Damen added.

"You won't enjoy it when I beat you," Laurent claimed. 

"I don't know about that," Damen said. "I doubt I'd mind a repeat of you putting me on my back and holding me there."

Laurent tried not to flush. Really he did. But he could feel the heat in his cheeks all the same. Because the unruly thought that flashed in his mind at that moment was: that's the exact image I couldn't get out of my head during heat.

"We're done here," he dismissed Damen, trying to sound more angry than mortified.

"For now," Damen agreed.

Laurent called for another opponent after all, and very much enjoyed showing an Alpha who was really in charge here. It was a pity it was the wrong Alpha.


	11. Chapter 11

A week later, Damen again invited himself unannounced into Laurent's tent. At least it was late enough in the morning this time that Laurent was already awake and thankfully didn't find himself once more practically undressed in front of a too-interested Alpha. That still didn't really make it seem like much less of an invasion. Especially given how, in such an enclosed area, Damen's proudly squared shoulders and sculpted muscles seemed to take up most of the free space around them, so that it somehow felt like he was bare inches from being pressed against Laurent despite actually being clear across the other side of the tent.

Hulking moron, Laurent thought spitefully.

"You really need to stop barging into my private tent if you don't want to find yourself punctured by my blade the moment you duck through the opening," Laurent warned.

"Don't worry," said Damen, "I'll be careful."

"Oh I really wasn't worried," Laurent said flatly.

"I thought you'd want to hear the information I've received in private so you'd at least have the option of containing it," Damen said, as if what Laurent wanted actually had any real bearing on Damen's desire to continually insinuate himself into Laurent's personal space. "The topic is… politically sensitive."

"Ah," Laurent said, sounding absolutely unconcerned. "Then I wouldn't be too concerned about how to break it to me; I already know. Apparently I've been accused of treason." 

Laurent had ultimately seen this or something very like it coming, but he had to admit that he'd thought he would have more time between Uncle's previous plan failing and him initiating a move as bold as this one. And despite it not being wholly unexpected, actually hearing it put into words the previous night when Jord had relayed the latest news picked up by one of the scouts had still made the bottom drop out of Laurent's stomach. 

Damen nodded sharply in acknowledgement. "Do your men already know about the charge?"

"Doubtful," Laurent said. "But it won't take long, the way gossip spreads around this place."

"It's not the best timing," Damen commented, "considering that just a short while ago some of your men seemed to be pushing back against your decisions."

Laurent knew that he probably hadn't entirely managed to quash that in the space of just a fortnight or so. He did, however, think he'd done enough damage control that most if not all of them should stand by him despite this new claim.

Laurent pointed out, "At least it won't exactly be much of a surprise to them at this stage. It's a short leap between allying with you and being officially charged with conspiring with Prince Damianos of Akielos against the interests of Vere. Any of the men who might be convinced to abandon me over this probably already would have left when we first struck our agreement."

Damen said, "Thankfully, there shouldn't be any serious fallout from the Akielon side of the border either, at least not for now. When news of it eventually reaches him, my father will undoubtedly laugh uproariously at the idiocy of Veretians for believing such an obvious lie."

"How nice for you," Laurent said. "Part of me always assumed it _would_ be a lie when my uncle finally did something to turn my people against me, and that he'd just fake the evidence. I wonder whether he actually knows of our alliance or just thinks he can make a convincing case for it. Either way, I doubt I'll have much of a leg to stand on when the soldiers come to take me in, especially if they catch sight of you loitering nearby the way you always seem to be lately."

"So do you intend to just let yourself be arrested then?" Damen questioned. 

"Of course not," Laurent said. "I'd never make anything that easy for my uncle."

"Should we expect an army riding south to meet us?" Damen asked.

"My uncle won't do his own dirty work unless and until he absolutely has to. He'll leave Ravenel to come for me first. Even though there's been no sign of movement from within Ravenel just yet, I'm sure Lord Touars is just taking a moment to figure out how best to apprehend a supposed traitor-prince who's left a contingent of his men outside their gate for Ravenel's army to trip over on their way out. They'll come soon enough. Why wouldn't they? They'll assume it'll be easy to overwhelm my forces and apprehend me, considering Ravenel has an army several times larger than mine."

"But, coincidentally, so do I," Damen pointed out.

"Yes," Laurent agreed. "So now I suppose we'll finally get to see whether a prince of Akielos can actually be counted upon to honour an agreement now that it will require more than standing around in my strategic tent being annoying and commenting uninvited on my fighting form."

Damen bared his teeth in a grin.

The soldiers of Ravenel came in the dead of night like a horde of faithless Akielon scum. Unbeknownst to them, however, some of the actual Akielons had been waiting for them, hidden in the foothills a short distance from the lines of Veretian tents, since news of Laurent's change in status had arrived. 

Damen, despite his belief that Veretians were untrustworthy snakes in the grass, hadn't seemed entirely convinced that Laurent's people would attack their own Prince, even one accused of treason, under cover of dark and without warning. Laurent's nature was more suspicious. Thankfully, Damen had seemed willing to trust his judgement in this case, and he had called for Nikandros to send some of their number into Vere as reinforcements.

Laurent would have liked to believe that if Ravenel's men hadn't been met by this unexpected Akielon force, Lord Touars would have only used the element of surprise from the night attack to subdue Laurent's men with minimal bloodshed. Not that Laurent would ever have come with him peacefully, because there would be no such thing as a 'fair trial' for Laurent in Arles under Uncle's watch. But it still would have been nice to think Lord Touars at least believed he was somehow treating Laurent justly. They would never know either way now, because the men of Ravenel were too busy fighting for their lives to seek Laurent out and give him such a choice.

The twin seas of red were fairly indistinguishable in the dark, while the darker blue of the Crown Prince's colours blended further into the night and made Laurent's men nearly invisible but for occasional flashes of the gold of their starbursts. Even without all that, having some hand in commanding a foreign army against soldiers who should have been his own would still have been disorienting. The same was probably true for Laurent's men having to fight alongside the enemy and instead attack their own countrymen.

Notably, whether it was because they truly were loyal to Laurent or because they at the very least believed that he would be victorious, not one of Laurent's men appeared to try to defect to Ravenel's side of the fight.

Laurent found himself quickly separated from Jord, who had been just to his right when the two armies had first collided against each other in a crash of metal and flesh. For all their drills, in the confusion of the darkness it had been impossible to hold the line. As a result, no one around him seemed to be aware that the Prince of Vere might be just a few feet from them, so they didn't go out of their way to protect him. That suited Laurent well enough, since he was impatient to work out the constant repressed tension of the past few weeks in an actual fight.

Equally, Ravenel's soldiers didn't seem to recognise him in the blackness either, at least not until it was too late. He thought it gave him an advantage once or twice when the man he was facing across the blades saw who was looking back and automatically recoiled slightly. Laurent wasn't above using that against them.

Unfortunately, Laurent quickly found that most of the approaching soldiers of Ravenel were being summarily cut down before they could even get within Laurent's swinging distance. Even though he was only feet in front of Laurent's face, it still took a minute to make out Damen in the dark.

"Get out of the way," Laurent ordered.

"I'm not in your way," Damen said. "I'm clearing your path."

Laurent gritted his teeth. Laurent had stupidly started to believe that maybe Damen didn't just see him as some helpless Omega, but here he was: the 'heroic' Alpha coming in to sweep the Omega off to safety.

Laurent was tempted to sink his sword into Damen's unguarded back then. So tempted.

"What you're doing is killing men I'd prefer to just subdue or at worst injure," Laurent shot back instead. "I need them on my side, remember?"

"No promises," Damen said. "I'm not about to just stand back and let them kill you because you're too busy trying to reason with them to actually raise your sword."

Laurent used his speed to pivot himself past Damen before the other man could react, so that he was now pressing closer to what remained of the front line than Damen was. He locked swords with one of Touars's men.

"I'm more than capable of multi-tasking," Laurent called back to him, even while his sword was still taking hits. "And I can fight just as well in real battle as in the training rings. I'll defend myself as needed. I don't require your help with that."

"Mmm, I can see that," Damen said as Laurent's opponent fell to the ground.

" _Don't_ try to watch my back," Laurent warned.

"It might be difficult to stop myself," Damen said after taking a moment to kick one of Touars's men backwards and sink his sword into the soldier's vulnerable neck while he was still stumbling. "Since the view is so nice."

Annoying idiot. As if he could even see well enough in this light to do more than pick out Laurent's bright coloured hair. Laurent would have rolled his eyes if he didn't have them trained on his current opponent, who was hacking at Laurent's sword with bone-jolting strength but next to no real finesse. Laurent waited until the man started to swing downwards again and sidestepped him entirely, sinking his own sword into the soldier's thigh and sending him tumbling with a choked scream of pain.

"While I have to say that this has been enlightening," Damen said from behind him, "wasn't your intention to track down Touars and take him down early so that most of the men's motivation to keep fighting you would be removed?"

That had been the plan, even though it had made Laurent nearly sick to suggest it, as if it weren't based on a strategy that was the reason his brother was dead. 

Laurent nodded sharply, though he doubted Damen actually saw it. "So it was. And I would have already accomplished that, if someone hadn't gotten in my way," Laurent said.

"Like I said, I'm just here to clear your path. Don't let me distract you." 

"As if you could," Laurent retorted. "And I'll clear my own path, thanks."

Damen made a sweeping 'after you' gesture to Laurent, but he was quickly engaged by a man from Ravenel before he could fall into step in Laurent's wake as he went in search of his quarry.

In the end, though, it seemed it wasn't strategically necessary to target Lord Touars himself to ensure a decisive victory. With the size of Damen's army added to Laurent's smaller force, Lord Touars's men were possibly outnumbered, and definitely outclassed, as well as caught off guard. Damen alone had seemed to cut through countless men like warm butter. Laurent wondered if they'd actually needed the assistance of a few hundred Akielons, or whether just this particular one might have done the job. He clearly hadn't been wrong when he'd assumed Damen's skill had not been exaggerated.

The battle was over remarkably quickly, too quickly for Laurent to even make real progress in tracking Lord Touars down. When Laurent did come upon him, he was already dead. Damen was nearby, wiping blood off his blade.

"Sorry," he said when he saw Laurent. "You were taking too long to get here. I couldn't wait." 

"Poor endurance," Laurent commented. "I'm not surprised."

Even in the dark, Laurent could see Damen's lazy smile. "My stamina is excellent, actually. I'd be happy to offer a demonstration."

Laurent ignored him in favour of ordering the men closest to him, in Veretian and then Akielon: "Gather the survivors." He waved a hand to encompass those members of Touars's attack force who still moved under their own power, which was thankfully a significant number of them. "Quickly, before any of them can ride off and alert those still inside Ravenel about what happened here."

The soldiers of Akielos appeared for once to be too much in high spirits to be resentful about being directed by a foreign prince. Well, thought Laurent bitterly, they had after all been given a fully sanctioned opportunity to injure and kill Veretian soldiers en masse for the first time in years.

They seemed less keen to follow Laurent's next order. Damen himself protested as well, unhappy with the perceived lack of honour involved. He still ultimately nodded for his men to follow Laurent's lead.

As they were removing their captives' armour, one of the Ravenel soldiers grabbed for Laurent. He didn't even get the chance to make physical contact before Damen had the man pinned and was snarling in his face like an animal.

Laurent unthinkingly took a slight instinctive step back from the Alpha display of dominance before he could catch himself. He couldn't help but notice just how quickly and thoroughly Damen had conquered his opponent. Just as easily as he'd managed to defeat Laurent in close combat, he recalled, even though the other Alpha was a lot closer to Damen's size and muscle mass than Laurent was. Laurent tried not to be impressed. In fact, he forcibly suppressed his reaction in its entirety from the moment that he realised his body was responding like this had been a territorial fight over him. The winner, Laurent reminded himself, was certainly not going to get any rights over this Omega.

"Down boy," Laurent finally chastised Damen. "I recognise this one. He's the commander of Ravenel's troop. Enguerran, isn't it?"

But Enguerran wasn't even looking at Laurent. He was staring as if he'd seen a ghost at Damen, who was wearing all the armour and fittings of his position and so would have been difficult to mistake even for a man who'd never laid eyes on him before. "Prince-killer," Enguerran whispered. It was apparently loud enough to be picked up by the ears of his fellow survivors, for it was repeated among them almost like an echo. "I didn't really believe…" Enguerran started, and finally his eyes slid over to Laurent. "You really are a traitor," he said, though he still sounded as if he were somewhat disbelieving.

In retaliation for the insult, Damen, who still had a grip on Ravenel's Captain that looked about fit to choke him and, to Laurent's eyes, that was much more vicious than the hold in which he'd once trapped Laurent, twisted Enguerran's arm back and around so that his bones must have been on the verge of snapping.

"Enough," Laurent barked at Damen. "I've said far worse to you and been answered with nothing more than a smile. Stop the Alpha posturing. I doubt he'll be as willing to give me his loyalty if you break his bones when he's not even trying to escape."

Damen didn't seem to visibly loosen his grip, but Enguerran's pained expression faded all the same.

"You're gravely misinformed," Laurent said to the Captain. "You and your men will have a chance to make a more informed decision about what side you stand on after we have taken Ravenel. And you can rest assured that we'll take it. For now, I'm still your Prince. So, will you come quietly, or do we need to gag all of you?"

Enguerran's look of horrified distaste as he looked back and forwards from Damen to Laurent was answer enough.

"Fine," Laurent said. "Let's do it the hard way then."

Donning the livery of Ravenel and hoisting its banners high as they walked through the gates unchallenged could not have gone better if Laurent had planned it months in advance. It was, in fact, strange to acknowledge that a spur of the moment decision had succeeded bloodlessly. It was doubly odd to contrast it to the last time he'd made a snap decision, which had only been similarly bloodless because of Damen, not Laurent himself. He hated acknowledging how he still owed Damen a debt for that. The battle tonight might have seemed like a perfect time to assuage that, but Damen certainly had never needed to be saved at any point throughout it.

Now Laurent owed him for this as well. The last step might have been Laurent's plan, but it had been Damen and his men who had ultimately delivered Ravenel into his hands.

The men and women still inside Ravenel had been restrained and, where necessary, locked away in the prison cells underground inside the fortress. There was then a moment where Laurent looked around him and saw the soldiers in the stolen armour of Ravenel for what they were: half made up of Akielons, with more of their Akielon-armoured brethren streaming openly through the gates now that the ruse had done its job.

This, Laurent realised, was the real test. Not whether Damen would fight with him and for him as he'd promised, but whether his men, having taken a vaunted Veretian fortress, would be ordered back outside to set up camp, or whether they would instead turn their sights on Laurent's men and move to keep Ravenel for themselves.

It would have been more of a tense moment had Damen's face not been artless as he looked at Laurent and announced that Laurent's banners should be hung from the battlements.

Yet again, Damen made little sense to Laurent.

"Your uncle won't be quick to attack the strength of Ravenel," Damen said, satisfied. "The rest of what you need will flow from this victory."

"Perhaps," Laurent said. "Uncle has forts of his own, though. It's more likely that Vere will be split in two than that my uncle will just cave in upon learning that he can't kill me as easily as he'd hoped. Though I suppose that suits you just fine. Worst case for Akielos is that my new territory provides a buffer between my uncle and you. Best case, your father takes advantage and moves on us while we're weak and divided. It's what my uncle intends to do to you. It's what your father already did to Vere once before as well."

"That won't happen now," Damen promised.

"You're not the King," Laurent replied dismissively. "Even if I wanted to believe you'd uphold such a promise, it's not in your power to make it in the first place."

"I'll speak to him. I'll make him understand that we can be stronger as allies, and that helping you drive your uncle out will benefit us too."

"Will helping me grant your father more land?" Laurent asked. "No? Well that's the only currency he speaks in, from what I've seen. Goodwill and alliances might be nice, but King Theomedes is hardly about to trade a likely successful invasion for airy promises about the future."

"Is that what you think my word is?" Damen asked. "Made of nothing but air?" 

It hurt to admit it, but: "You appear to be a different kind of man than your father."

Damen sighed. "I would like to be," he said quietly, as if he didn't intend it to be overheard. Laurent certainly hadn't anticipated Damen would ever admit that, if he'd thought it at all. He loved his father. He'd probably never had reason to step back and objectively judge the kind of ruler Theomedes was until Laurent had challenged him over what Theomedes would have done if Damen had put Laurent's fate in his father's hands instead of his own. 

Damen still had no real reason to take Laurent's side over his father's. Laurent had given him nothing but tidings of potential war, which might easily have been untrue, and the hope that that war might be averted with Laurent in power, which could easily be a lie as well. It made no sense. Why was Damen giving every indication that he trusted Laurent? Then again, why did he continue to trust men like Kastor either?

For such a seemingly simple man, Damen was sometimes incredibly difficult for Laurent to understand.

And he understood himself even less lately. He hadn't forgotten the identity of the man who was helping him, not really. How could he? In his full armour earlier that night, Damen had looked just as he would have on the battlefield at Marlas, if a few years older. He was now very nearly the age that Auguste had been then. Auguste would never have the chance to grow older than that now, and it was because of Damen.

Laurent shouldn't have to remind himself of these things. They should be at the front of his mind at all times, especially when Damen was anywhere nearby. He should be planning for the day when he'd avenge his brother rather than limiting his vision to the more immediate problem of his uncle.

It was like chess; you had to think ten moves ahead or you'd probably already lost.

Laurent had no intention of losing.

But Laurent had to admit, staring out over the walls of Ravenel at dawn and seeing his own men and Damen's mixed together in the fields below, that that future suddenly seemed strangely distant.


	12. Chapter 12

"You took Ravenel," was the first thing Enguerran said when Laurent visited him down in Ravenel's prison cells. He sounded as if he were still in shock about it, but there was also just a hint of admiration. "Without siege, without bloodshed. You just walked in the gate."

The cells, which all backed onto each other and were currently filled almost to bursting, held all but the more injured of the soldiers of Ravenel. But Enguerran was a commander, and so had been provided with the comfort of not being packed in with the lesser-ranked soldiers. Technically it was Thevenin, Lord Touars's son, who was the highest positioned person inside Ravenel's walls who was not already loyal to either Laurent or Damen. He, however, was far too young to be making decisions for a whole fortress, and he was hardly likely to be well disposed to Laurent now that his father had been killed while trying to apprehend him. It was useless to Laurent to try to win Thevenin over. He didn't think he would be equally wasting his time with Enguerran, whom most of the men would listen to and follow.

"You're right," Laurent agreed. "I just walked into Ravenel like I was owed entry. Shouldn't I always have been? I don't think it would have escaped your notice that I wasn't made welcome here by Lord Touars long before he had any actual reason to act against me."

Enguerran looked uncomfortable. He'd owed allegiance to Lord Touars, and even now that he was dead he would be hesitant to speak against him. But clearly he'd seen it. He had to have wondered, even if only briefly, why their Prince was not afforded the highest honour during his visit.

"I have no desire to kill my fellow men of Vere," Laurent continued, "or to put you out of your homes. Especially those who may be loyal to me. I have made your fortress my own only because I apparently require solid walls between myself and my Regent, who has decided that repeatedly inciting armies to come after me and kill me is the best way to hold my throne in trust for me."

"We would never have come for you if you weren't in league with Akielos," Enguerran protested.

"Oh, I wasn't just talking about _your_ army," Laurent said. "It was Akielos that my uncle first schemed to have murder me. Or to rape and breed me; that would have suited him just fine as well," Laurent added. The outraged mutterings among the other prisoners who'd overheard and the disgust on Enguerran's face were heartening, for they weren't directed at Laurent for being an Omega, but rather at the notion that barbarians might have dared to touch their Prince that way, and that any man of Vere could possibly sanction such an abomination. 

"I am the Prince of Vere," Laurent added imperiously. "No one will take anything from me that I'm not willing to give. My uncle would have used Akielos as a weapon against me, but I've turned them into an asset instead. I hope to do the same with Ravenel."

"And what did you promise the prince-killer to secure his friendship?" Enguerran asked, spitting the sobriquet like a curse.

"Nothing," Laurent said. At Enguerran's disbelief, Laurent added, "His men will take some horses and some gold and probably a few other trinkets as we move north, but nothing of real substance, and that was for the benefit of convincing the men themselves. Damianos I won over purely by convincing him that it was in his best interest to work with me against Vere's Regent, whose current rule is both false and dangerous to all of us. And believe me, we're far from friends. But even my greatest enemy accepts that I will be the rightful King of Vere, and that I'm a man worth fighting alongside. Will you do less for your Prince?"

When Laurent left the prison, Enguerran was by his side, and they were followed by all but a stubborn few men who refused to bow their heads and pledge themselves to Laurent's cause. 

Laurent looked out over the number of them and said to Enguerran, "Suddenly I find the size of my troop to be more than doubled, and my adversaries are potentially growing more numerous by the day. I imagine I could use your experienced leadership. Will you stand as one of my commanders?"

When Enguerran looked visibly honoured by having his Prince offer him a commanding role in his personal army, Laurent detected no falsehood in it.

"That was quick," Damen said when he saw Enguerran ordering some of his men to join Laurent's on the walls. He watched Enguerran with narrowed eyes. "I thought it would be harder to win them over. Then again, I'd say the Captain of Ravenel was probably desperate to prove his worth to you after I put him on the ground so easily right before your eyes."

He sounded far too proud of himself for that. Laurent should probably take this opportunity to knock him down a peg. But the memory of Laurent's breath coming slightly shorter as he watched two Alphas straining against each other, with one catching his attention more than the other through his triumph in the fight and his natural physical appeal, was still so fresh in Laurent's mind that it felt like a mistake to allow the conversation to drift further in that direction. Instead, Laurent said, "Believe it or not, I do believe you were in a way instrumental in convincing them. I don't think that the men of Ravenel much liked having their willingness to trust me at my word compared unfavourably to the prince-killer's."

"So there's trust between us now, is there?" Damen asked.

"Well they could be forgiven for thinking so," Laurent acknowledged. "You did just hand me a fort. I know even you can't be quite so foolish that you don't realise the banners hanging from Ravenel's walls could be yours."

"Yes," said Damen simply. "But we agreed that the land we claimed would belong to you. Now it does. I'm a man of my word."

"So it would seem," Laurent said thoughtfully.

"The reverse of that, of course, is that my men will want to claim the lion's share of Ravenel's stores, particularly including enough drink to put them all under the table for weeks on end. You did promise us the profits of any of our victories, after all."

"I did," Laurent agreed. "And, on that note, any of your men who were injured have been granted access to our physicians as a priority. I wouldn't want any of your bannermen or soldiers to think that the men of Akielos have been ill-used."

"Few were injured enough to need more than passing treatment in the first place," Damen said. "And even fewer were killed. The men will see the spoils of Ravenel as more than fair compensation for their efforts, given that. Just the opportunity to finally bypass Ravenel's defences would probably have been enough on its own, to be honest; this fortress has stood firm against Akielos for so long that most had given up on it. Until you came along with some mismatched armour and a plan."

"The real question is whether that outcome will convince your missing bannermen to join us when it comes time to move north," said Laurent. "I haven't yet seen any notched belts among the Akielon men who walk inside Ravenel. I assume Makedon has not yet made his allegiances known."

"I've already sent word to him," assured Damen, "as well as to a few of the other more stubborn bannermen like Straton and Philoctus, that Akielon men walk inside the walls of Ravenel. At the very least they'll come to see the truth of it for themselves."

"Then they'll just have to be convinced to stay, won't they?" Laurent said determinedly. 

The following days were largely spent on learning the ropes of running Ravenel and dealing with those residents who still seemed particularly resentful of his (and especially Damen's) presence. Thankfully Enguerran's assistance helped smooth the way, even despite Damen insisting on changing several aspects of how Enguerran had run Ravenel's security in the past. Laurent would like to think that Damen's changes were purely strategic in nature, but he couldn't deny the slightly gleeful look he saw crossing Damen's face whenever he got to point out some failing that he could contribute at least in part to the other Alpha. 

Laurent did have to admit that the newly configured watch up on the battlements were particularly quick to notice and alert Laurent about a retinue in the distance that looked to be approaching the gates of Ravenel. It wasn't Makedon or one of his peers, as the riders didn't bear any symbol of Akielos. Nor did they wear the Regent's livery.

"It's not a bad move on my uncle's part to make sure the rumours of my supposed treason spread to Patras," Laurent admitted. "I doubt he would have expected them to come investigate themselves instead of taking his word for it, but they might still stand with him if they don't like what they find here."

"You don't have friends in Bazal?" Damen asked. 

Laurent said, "Vere's Ambassador to Patras seems nearly as much indebted to Uncle as our Ambassador to Akielos. Stuck all the way up in Arles as I've been for most of the last five years, it was easier to make connections with Vask than with Patras. Vask is easier to buy off as well, it must be said. I've sent messengers to Patras since departing the capital, of course, but they've given little indication in return that they'd actively lend support to my claim if it came to it." 

"Akielos is on friendly terms with Patras," Damen offered meaningfully.

Stop acting so selfless, Laurent wanted to snap. It makes it difficult to keep hating you.

"I was given to believe there was fairly regular trade between Akielos and Patras," Laurent said. "You don't think word will quickly get back to your father that you're making bargains with them without his leave?"

Damen sighed. "Nikandros would kill me. Really this time."

"Your presence itself is enough to pose a problem," Laurent pointed out. "We can't have a Patran envoy riding back to their country carrying tales of seeing Akielon colours inside Ravenel."

"The starburst banners hang on the outside walls, as they'll already have seen," Damen said. "The rest can be hidden."

"And the portion of your army that's camped very obviously outside?" questioned Laurent. "Given my uncle's claims, if I leave Patras to wonder why they're here there's only one conclusion they could reasonably come to. To be honest, I think Patras are probably less concerned that I'm supposedly committing treason in general than that the Princes of Vere and Akielos might be teaming up for some purpose unknown to them. They might anticipate a possible invasion into their own lands if they believe we're working together." 

Damen didn't seem worried. "Just tell them Akielos is in the process of trying to cut off trade lines to Ravenel in preparation for a siege. After all, that's the message I sent to my father to explain why I pushed over the border days ago."

Laurent hadn't actually known that. "Shall I expect that siege to begin shortly, when King Theomedes rides down to join his son?"

"The King will remain in Ios," Damen assured him. "I advised him that my actions were a long shot, not worth his involvement at this stage, but still worth trying since you were unfamiliar with Ravenel and had been weakened by having to fight your way in."

"I can't believe your father, or anyone, would actually buy into a lie of yours. You're terrible at deceit."

"Well I'm not telling the lie myself, am I?" Damen pointed out. "I'm informed that my messenger can be very convincing."

"You might be crossing the line into treasonous territory yourself now," Laurent warned. "What happens when word gets back that you're not working towards a siege at all, but actually had the chance to hold Ravenel as your own and didn't take it? You've said that Makedon, for example, is loyal to the King. If he's not impressed with what he finds here, I don't doubt the King will soon hear about your actions in a rather unflattering light."

Damen sighed. "I do all this for my father as much as anything. He'll see that, even if he doesn't respect how I've gone about it. If I go back with a profitable alliance with the Crown Prince of Vere, newly in control of his lands again and on the cusp of taking on his kingship upon his majority, my father will be annoyed, certainly, but not enough so to indict his heir."

"You hope." 

"I hope," Damen confirmed.

"And if you're wrong?"

Damen shrugged. "That's not the kind of thing I tend to dwell on outside of battle. Second-guessing everything is wasted energy."

"You wouldn't last a day in the court at Arles," Laurent said instead. 

"That's all right," Damen replied, "since I can't imagine a situation in which I would ever have to."

"I thought you just said you wanted to be long-term allies," Laurent said. 

"I'm hopeful," Damen said, "not delusional. Even if you decide not to try to kill me and stay allied with me after all, you're still hardly about to invite me to come relax in your palace for weeks on end."

No, he wouldn't. Once Uncle was dead or at least imprisoned, the only reason Damen would set foot inside Arles ever again would be if Laurent decided to drag him back there for a public execution instead of ending his life on the field.

"Fine. Then that's the story we'll go with. Gather any of your men who are currently inside the fort and make sure they're confined to the north wing," Laurent ordered. "And quickly. I can't leave the Patrans waiting on the doorstep for long if I want to get into their good graces."

The Akielons were remarkably efficient at hiding their presence, for a nation of people who claimed to abhor deception. The hard part, as it turned out, was getting Damen himself to actually lock himself away along with his people. 

"I could wear Veretian clothes," Damen claimed. "They'd never have to know I was from Akielos. This close to the border there are enough Veretians with colouring more similar to mine than yours that I could pass as one of you."

As if Damen could ever be believable as anything other than a Prince. 

Laurent glared at him. "You don't even know who's out there. It's probably someone who you've already met, or who could otherwise recognise you for exactly who you are. And we hardly have an hour to get you dressed in the Veretian fashion, anyway." 

"It's too risky for me not to," Damen pushed. "They could be here to move against you. What's the point of our agreement if you're killed inside your own fort?"

"How many times," Laurent said, exasperated, "do I have to remind you that I can look after myself? I don't want you hanging around anyway. I'm utterly tired of the sight of you."

"Looking forward to rubbing shoulders with some Patran Alpha noblemen instead?" Damen said. For a grown man, he sounded rather petulant. 

"Jealous?" Laurent taunted, realising even as he said it that it was true, and that it was what this latest ridiculous spur-of-the-moment suggestion was actually about. "I spend most of every day surrounded by Alphas. What's one more, Patran or otherwise?" 

"They're common soldiers, not aristocrats. You're a prince. This is different."

"Please," Laurent scoffed. "If all I'd been waiting for was someone of noble blood, I'd have had Nikandros tumble me."

" _Nikandros_ ," Damen repeated incredulously.

"Why not?" Laurent asked. "He's an Alpha, isn't he, and clearly not a commoner? According to you, that's all that's necessary. Honestly, it's a surprise I've been able to restrain myself from opening my thighs for this long."

"You know I don't think like that."

"Do I?" Laurent asked mildly. 

Damen made a frustrated noise as his clenched fist impacted the desk between them. It wasn't hard enough to leave blood on the wood, but Damen grimaced nonetheless.

"Did that hurt?" Laurent asked calmly. 

"No." 

"That's unfortunate."

"Why do you have to be so _difficult_ all the time?" 

"No one's forcing you to deal with me," Laurent reminded him. "Our agreement was for your military support, not for you personally. Feel free to ride back over the border any time you like. After the Patran party leaves, of course. It would be a bit suspect if you passed them in a huff on your way out."

Damen's voice sounded strained as he said, "I should. I don't know why I don't."

"Well you have all night to think about it," Laurent said. "On your own. Locked up out of sight. If you're still here by tomorrow night, I'll assume you figured out the answer."

Laurent departed for the audience chamber and hoped that Damen, for all that he seemed to thrive on ignoring Laurent's wishes, would just this once go to the north wing as Laurent had asked instead of following him and potentially ruining everything. 

There was, thankfully, no sign of dark Akielon skin as Laurent took his seat on the audience throne and waited for the Patran group to be shown in. 

On one hand, it was encouraging to find that Patras had sent its official Ambassador to Vere to spearhead their dealings with Laurent, as if they still intended to treat Laurent as the rightful Crown Prince of Vere unless and until they found evidence to the contrary. On the other hand, Laurent had no personal experience with the Patran King's younger brother, so there was no relationship to fall back upon.

Surprisingly, though, when Prince Torveld of Patras was escorted in to meet Laurent, it was not with the serious expression of an ally who was uncertain how true their alliance actually held. If Laurent had to compare it to anything in his experience, it would actually have been the awed expressions of some of the court Alphas in Arles that came to mind.

It seemed that Laurent needn't have worried too much about Torveld feeling a lack of connection to him.

Laurent extended an invitation to join him as an equal, as one prince to another. Torveld, when he drew close, seemed to lean towards Laurent as if drawn by an invisible force, but he didn't overstep his bounds.

"Prince Laurent," Torveld greeted. "We were told we would find your encampment further east, but it seems our intelligence was out-dated. Luckily some of the locals were able to steer us in the right direction."

"I'm unsurprised. I daresay there are many problems with the information that brings you to my door," Laurent riposted.

"I certainly hope so," Torveld said. "You understand, I'm sure, that we have been made aware of some interesting accusations."

"Interesting," Laurent repeated. "That's one word for it."

"Would 'false' be a better one?" Torveld asked.

"Most assuredly," Laurent confirmed. "I'm hardly in league with Akielos. As I'm sure you saw on your way here, their forces are in fact camped on my doorstep, ready to challenge me at any moment. They think me too weak to hold Ravenel."

"Then I'm sure you'll prove them wrong," Torveld assured him. "Obviously communications from Vere must have become distorted by the time word made it all the way to Bazal. I'll be sure to let my people know that the message should actually have been that Prince Laurent of Vere is currently fighting _against_ Akielos, not with them."

"I would appreciate that," said Laurent. "I'm saddened to say, though, that that doesn't mean Vere has been entirely free of treason of late. The Lord of Ravenel attacked his Crown Prince like a coward in the night. As you can see, he was relieved of his position."

"That is grievous news," Torveld said, with no evidence of pretence as he said it. He reminded Laurent a little of Damen, and not merely because they were both Alphas of royal blood. They appeared to have a similar inability to produce or detect untruths. With that in mind, perhaps Torveld should not, Laurent thought, have been appointed as the Ambassador to Vere of all places. 

"Would I be overstepping," Torveld asked, "if I inquired whether the former Lord of Ravenel had someone backing his actions against you?" 

"I'm sure an intelligent man such as yourself has his own theories," Laurent said cryptically.

Torveld smiled at him like Laurent had told the funniest joke the man had ever heard. Laurent's worries that Patras might side against him on the basis of this visit swiftly dissipated.

Of course Torveld, also not unlike Damen, was not the actual ruler of his kingdom. Laurent seemed to be accruing a small collection of royalty with limited power to promise Laurent their country's assistance. Not that that had really stopped Damen much at this point, of course, but Torveld would be less likely to overstep his bounds without having any real reason to. Laurent could give him reason, of course. There was a very clear means of manipulating Torveld to help him if he wished. But there were limits as to how far Laurent was willing to go to play on Torveld's clear attraction to him. He wasn't about to sell himself, or even to give the illusion that his own affections could be bought in such a way. 

So it would have to be enough if Laurent could instead just convince Torveld to get his brother the King of Patras to remain neutral and stay out of it.

Although the fort's stores had already started to become somewhat depleted by Laurent's and Damen's troops, as well as the continued upkeep of the existing residents of Ravenel, Laurent loudly decreed that this welcome visit from friends of Vere called for a feast. That would give him time to be persuasive.

Though Laurent admitted that he might then have drawn the feast in question out longer than necessary so that Damen would have to stay shut away impotently for a few extra hours.

Torveld was deep in his cup by the end of it, and didn't seem to notice that Laurent hadn't actually touched a drop all the while. When they retreated from the main hall for a moment of privacy, Laurent foresaw having to find a diplomatic way to rebuff a drunken attempt to bed him. Torveld though, even while relatively impaired, seemed to be bizarrely harmless. If it wasn't for the scent of him, Laurent would have doubted that he was an Alpha at all. 

"I hope your visit has eased any worries you might have had," said Laurent.

"Yes. I believe my brother will be very relieved to hear that the rightful heir to the throne of Vere will still be taking his place as King soon enough."

"And you?" Laurent asked. 

Torveld reached for Laurent's hand, giving him plenty of time to object before clasping it together with his own. "I'm suddenly very much looking forward to many years of diplomatic missions to Vere," Torveld admitted.

"I'm glad," Laurent said. He knew Torveld took it as a different kind of reinforcement and tried not to feel uncomfortable about playing into that just slightly, because Torveld did seem to be a good man. 

It occurred to Laurent that, if Father had lived, Prince Torveld might easily have ended up being the powerful Patran Alpha whom Laurent had apprehensively described to Auguste as a potential future contracted mate. Though he didn't seem quite as horrible a prospect as Laurent at age thirteen had imagined. Laurent couldn't envision that a marriage between them would have worked the way his father wanted. Torveld was too eager and trusting, and probably would never have put an ounce of pressure on Laurent to do a single thing he didn't want. And, Alpha or not, Laurent didn't want him in the slightest, not even on that instinctual level that Laurent found himself having to press down into submission with certain other Alphas. They'd never even have got around to consummating the marriage, most likely.

Torveld deserved a far sweeter Omega or wife than Laurent anyway, he decided. He'd tell him so the next time they met, when Laurent was in a less perilous political position and could afford more honesty between them.

The departure of Torveld and his retinue from Ravenel happened only an hour later. There was less fanfare than had been provided for the Patran contingent's journey inwards from the gates to the audience chamber. Anyone looking only at that departure would have guessed that they might have been simply two noblemen on friendly terms, not men only a short distance from sitting on the thrones of their respective countries. That, Laurent thought, seemed like the best way to leave things with Torveld, who he'd found didn't seem to stand much on ceremony but reacted remarkably well to the most basic of polite gestures.

The Patran men, as they left, didn't pass the windows facing out from the north side of Ravenel's walls, so the Akielon party inside the fort wouldn't have been aware that they'd left.

Laurent took that opportunity to retire to his chambers for the evening, purposefully not giving the word for anyone to alert the Akielons that they could come out from their confinement. He liked the idea of making Damen wait on his good graces.

Apparently word reached them all the same, though, for when Damen found him in the morning, he immediately asked, "So how was your night with Prince Torveld?" 

Laurent smiled shrewdly. "Oh, we had a lovely time, especially once we managed to find some privacy. He was a perfect gentleman, of course."

"Not your type at all, then," Damen said.

No, Laurent had to concede, it wasn't.

But that was only because Laurent didn't have a type at all, he was quick to amend.

"I hope you at least stopped flirting long enough to ensure Patras isn't about to make your fight with your uncle into a two-front battle," Damen said somewhat bitterly.

"Whatever makes you think I'd need to stop flirting to accomplish that?"

"So I'm not the only one you've managed to seduce," Damen said.

Laurent rolled his eyes. "I've already told you that I wasn't seducing you. I was only trying to even the playing field however I could. We can't all fall back on bulging arm and chest muscles and a lifetime of transforming ourselves into wrestling experts."

The look on Damen's face was strange, as if Laurent had said something that pleased him but he was trying not to show it (and failing, for the most part, because Damen was terrible at hiding anything). "I wasn't actually referring to the first day we met," he said.

Laurent made a derisive noise. "Apart from talking strategy, I've spent half my time telling you to leave me alone and the other half reminding you I'm going to try again to kill you one day. I've hardly _seduced_ you."

"Haven't you?"

Laurent honestly couldn't understand why Damen kept handing him this potential advantage, again and again. Was it because Damen somehow knew that it was the one weapon Laurent couldn't quite bring himself to fully wield? 

"Now you're going to tell me I've beguiled you with my Omega wiles," Laurent accused. "I suppose my scent was just too much to resist."

"You wouldn't have needed to be an Omega to catch my attention and hold it," Damen claimed.

"You didn't need to be an Alpha to get my attention either," Laurent replied sweetly. "Killing my brother certainly was enough to take care of that."

"I wish I'd seen a better path that day, the way I can see it now," Damen said. "But regrets five years too late do neither of us any good."

He didn't even sound properly contrite, Laurent thought bitterly. Not that Laurent wouldn't have told Damen exactly where he could shove his empty apologies even if they were on offer.

"No," Laurent agreed. "Your wishes and 'regrets' mean nothing to me. They won't bring him back."

"I would if I could, though," Damen admitted.

Laurent, unable to quite deal with that sentiment coming from Damianos, the prince-killer, just forced himself to shake his head in disgust and turn his back on him.

Damen didn't try to follow.


	13. Chapter 13

It wasn't Laurent's scouts or guards that let him know of Nikandros's arrival at Ravenel; it was the sound of the man's voice filtering from the edges of the Akielon camp as Laurent passed on his way to the stables.

"Don't be fooled by him allowing you to walk freely inside his fortress. He still doesn't trust you, and you shouldn't trust him either," Nikandros was saying.

"I don't. Not fully," responded Damen's voice.

Laurent paused beside the rustling canvas of one of the Akielon tents, listening.

The noise Nikandros made in response was disbelieving. "You don't know how to 'not fully' trust someone. It's all or nothing with you."

"He hasn't given me reason to regret giving him the benefit of the doubt."

"Yet," Nikandros stressed. "He could be playing a long game. For all you know, he's orchestrated every step to get you right where he wants you."

"I'd already agreed to help him well before his own subjects attacked him during the night. Soldiers of Vere were injured and died on both sides," Damen pointed out. "I know Veretians are tricky, but what would he gain by having the entire force of Ravenel attack him just for show, especially when in the dark they might easily have killed him even without meaning to?"

"To convince the rest of us, perhaps," Nikandros suggested.

"He's too smart to think that would work," said Damen.

"The fact that he's clever doesn't put my mind at ease. It just makes it easier for him to use you."

"He's openly told me that's his intention," Damen admitted. "I believe he called our arrangement mutual self-interest."

"There's nothing mutual about it. And I'm sure he's capable of coating his lies in truth to make them more palatable," Nikandros warned. 

"I'm not walking into this blindly," Damen tried to reassure him.

"No," Nikandros said bitterly. "Your eyes are wide open. That's half the problem. If you couldn't see or smell him, everything else would be so much clearer to you."

Their conversation might have continued on in that vein for some time, but Laurent didn't continue to linger long enough to know. He couldn't afford to waste valuable time when his troop needed all the training he could provide, for he knew that they would soon be called on to use it. They couldn't just remain at Ravenel forever if Laurent didn't want to give Uncle time to amass all of his own forces.

An hour later, Laurent was leading most of the soldiers he'd managed to accrue through training manoeuvres which doubled as borderline patrols, seeking out any of his uncle's paid men more so than general raiding parties in the foothills. The men riding with him numbered nearly six hundred by now. It still wasn't enough to challenge Uncle's combined armies, of course, or Akielos's, if Damen changed his mind or King Theomedes caught wind of what was really happening on the border and decided to put a decisive end to it. But as they eventually moved southwards, Laurent intended to change those odds. 

Their growing number did make getting the soldiers to work together like a cohesive unit, and without bucking at his command in the slightest, more difficult, though. Some of these men had likely locked swords with each other in the battle near Breteau. Even if they could forgive and forget, they were still a melting pot of men from Arles, Varenne, Marche and the borderlands, all with different training styles in their background, and more importantly, different degrees of loyalty.

Laurent led the troop from the front of the formation over slightly uneven ground, calling out orders even as he proved that he was willing to work just as hard as he was making them work.

When Damen caught up to them, his horse taking the rocks with remarkable speed, Laurent was pushing his company parallel with the border. Laurent startled at the unexpected sight of Damen, though hopefully not obviously enough that his soldiers or Damen himself noticed. Nikandros was right, Laurent realised. Whatever Damen might say, he wouldn't voluntarily ride out alone miles from his camp to meet with hundreds of Laurent's armed soldiers unless he completely trusted Laurent to stay his men's hands.

Laurent expected Damen to call out to him, to take him aside and deliver some pressing news that apparently a messenger couldn't have been trusted to carry. Damen had a habit of annoyingly inserting himself wherever Laurent was, but surely even he wouldn't have chanced disrupting Laurent's training and putting himself in potential danger like this without good reason. 

But Damen didn't show any sign of wanting to interrupt or pull Laurent away from his men. Instead, Damen's horse someone worked into the line beside Laurent almost seamlessly, which Laurent found impressive despite himself. Damen's seat on the horse was impressive too. It should have looked like a giant straddling a pony, but somehow man and beast were almost an extension of each other (probably because Damen was a beast himself, Laurent reminded himself) as Damen, unbelievably, fell in under Laurent's orders.

There was a wave of reaction as the men of Vere realised that the prince-killer was not only present, but had the nerve to settle himself at the front of their ranks. When Laurent glanced back, he saw that some of the men had bristled, likely barely restraining themselves from reaching for their swords. Others looked contemplative, expectant, as if they were dying to see how any power struggle between Laurent and Damen would really work in practice. They were princes of more or less equal rank, but Damen was an Alpha, the supposedly natural leader. The men would anticipate that he would try to take over, even if they'd refuse to follow his orders.

Laurent narrowed his eyes at Damen, but didn't protest his presence immediately, waiting to see what he'd do now. With a subtle tilt of his chin, Damen silently pointed out a few men down the line who were tending to stray just slightly out of formation. He made no attempt to engage Laurent's men directly to correct it the way he clearly would have if they'd been his own people, but rather left Laurent to shout the men back into form. 

Eventually the rumblings of the men settled as it became clear that Laurent was still the undisputed leader here even with an Alpha prince also present. That was the clear message being sent. That was, Laurent thought, clearly what had seemed important enough to prompt Damen to ride out to meet him against all good judgement. Though Laurent still wasn't going to actually thank Damen, even if he had provided Laurent with this opportunity to demonstrate to his men that he wouldn't bow to some other commander just because they were Alpha and he was Omega.

He didn't send Damen away, deciding that he'd be foolish not to use Damen as a tool to improve his own men if he was going to make himself available. After all, if Laurent wasn't willing to put aside his distaste for the idea of accepting Damen's help, they wouldn't even be in this situation at all. Laurent might as well make best use of him now that he was here.

Damen stayed with them all afternoon, remaining right by Laurent's side even as Laurent split the troop in two, with the second half commanded by Jord into a flanking position.

"Try a funnel," Damen advised late in the day, too quietly for anyone but Laurent to make out. Laurent obligingly separated the men into three groups, making use of Enguerran to lead the third. The two smaller groups circled around and slowly converged towards each other, riding back towards Laurent's group as if herding an enemy towards them. Damen watched every detail with assessing eyes, while Laurent watched Damen. 

Laurent shouted out in a clear voice for all three groups to integrate for the ride back to Ravenel. As they reformed into one line it was messy, and it took too long. Laurent couldn't help but see it as a metaphor for the whole troop as it currently stood. Repetition would help solve the more practical issues, like the clumsiness that led to horses bumping against each other as men pressed back into formation. But something more would likely be required for the less obvious underlying problems.

By nightfall, as they brought their horses up alongside the stables of Ravenel, the men looked utterly worn by the day's efforts. Still, when Laurent dismissed them to return to the barracks, he received only a handful of token glares for having run them so hard all day. Mostly they looked at him with some different emotion in their eyes. Laurent hesitated to call it respect, but that was the word that seemed to come closest to it. Qualified respect, probably, he thought bitterly. That might be the closest Laurent would ever get to the real thing, with so many preconceptions and barriers standing in his way.

Once they were back inside Ravenel's walls, Laurent made Damen explain all the problems he'd spotted throughout the day.

"In Akielon," Laurent specified in that language before Damen started to talk.

"You want to speak my language now? I'm touched."

"Don't be. I'll admit that my Akielon could use some improvement if I'm going to be surrounded by your countrymen on a daily basis. I'd rather you didn't have the advantage in any discussions held in your language," Laurent said.

Damen laughed. "I know you think I'm a fool, but at this point I don't think anyone in this fort or in the camps outside is stupid enough to be under the impression that I have the upper hand over you. I'm no exception."

Over an hour later, after he'd milked as much useful information out of Damen as he could fully process for the moment, tired as he was, Laurent told Damen, "Don't think you can make a habit of this."

"Of helping you?" Damen asked.

"Of assuming you need to, and then doing it without even asking," Laurent corrected. "If I want your presence, I'll call for you."

"I'll look forward to that, then," Damen said, not looking overly rebuked.

"Don't," Laurent warned.

He did call for Damen though, almost despite himself. Damen was, after all, a more experienced commander in large-scale battle than Enguerran, and certainly more so than Jord, so of all of them he'd be the one most likely to pick up on things that might be problematic when it was an enemy force rather than just tiredness and smatterings of indifference that were pushing their lines to fracture. 

They trained and patrolled in the fields and the foothills for several more days until Damen's suggestions in the following evenings started growing fewer and fewer. When they did happen to stumble across a party of bandits harassing a small group of travellers, Laurent's troop followed his instructions to the letter and picked off all but one of the men with ease. Laurent ordered that the remaining man be questioned, but no evidence arose suggested that the group had been there at the behest of his uncle. Despite that, the men seemed happier for having something real to do, even if the fight had been brief. 

He'd been right. They couldn't stay at Ravenel forever. If nothing else, the men would grow bored and their sense of purpose would atrophy, and with that would come greater likelihood of a more outward expression of the infighting that Laurent knew likely still bubbled deep under the surface of their supposed unity.

Once Laurent was satisfied with his men's improvement, and was satisfied they would continue to improve even without Laurent's (or Damen's) direct oversight, Laurent sent for Damen to join him in his apartments inside Ravenel for something other than just a private review of that day's activities.

As he waited for him, Laurent once again stood with his maps laid out in front of him. Since taking Ravenel, which Laurent hadn't been fully convinced would happen, and certainly not with such haste, the door had been flung wide open on the possibility of heading west instead of north. Having Acquitart, Ravenel and Fortaine all under Laurent's banner would be quite the coup, and would prevent them from being flanked by Uncle's loyal men as they headed north. That might be the only thing that would convince a number Damen's bannermen to actually ride further into Vere, assuming of course that they didn't think _Laurent_ would be the one to organise such a trap. Judging by their continued absence from Ravenel, it seemed clear that they didn't particularly want to take that kind of chance and jump into bed with him. So to speak.

Nikandros had said that Makedon had been responsible for Breteau. It seemed unlikely that he in particular could since have strayed far enough away that it would have taken days to arrive at Ravenel to answer his Prince's call, or to at least send a messenger in response. The fact that he was still not here was intentional. He was drawing it out, thinking to make the Veretians wait on him. Or he had no intention of coming at all. And the others, as Nikandros had said, would likely follow his lead.

"Nikandros doesn't seem to believe that the rest of your bannermen are coming," Laurent said in Akielon as Damen entered the room. "I agree. They'd be here by now already. Apparently your call to arms lacks some bite. Clearly they don't think they owe you quite as much blind allegiance as their Prince as they would to their King."

Damen didn't deny that, but rather raised his eyebrows pointedly and said, "When have you had opportunity to talk to Nikandros recently?"

"Several times, actually. Isn't it annoying when foreign princes wander about your camp like they own the place, without invitation, doing whatever they want?" Laurent said dryly. "I apparently have nothing but free time to have chats with your Kyros while I wait on your remaining northern commanders to decide whether they'll bother showing. I'd much rather use that time more wisely. I called you here to ask you to stay outside Ravenel's walls while I ride out for a few days, and to keep your own men outside as well. An Akielon presence in here while I'm too far away to act against it if needed would make my men unnecessarily nervous."

"I can definitely promise that," Damen said, "because I won't actually be remaining in Ravenel at all if you're not."

"You're not coming with me," Laurent said flatly.

"Well you're not going without me." 

Laurent raised his eyebrows. "Is that right? Have you forgotten that I neither require your protection nor particularly enjoy your presence? I've no intention of going anywhere with you."

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, and in doing so gave the impression of becoming a solid wall of muscle and stubbornness, immoveable. "I have no intention of watching you run off and get yourself killed. The last time you separated yourself from your troop, when you rode east, I was unimpressed with the number and calibre of men you took with you. You got lucky then."

"The last time," Laurent repeated with narrowed eyes.

"Yes. I'm not as much of a fool as you think. About six weeks ago a group of seven riders snuck away from your encampment heading eastward, and took nearly a week to return. One of the riders apparently had distinctive golden hair."

"Fair hair is hardly unheard of as a Veretian trait."

" _Laurent_."

"'Prince Laurent'," Laurent corrected, trying (probably in vain) to introduce some sense of remoteness into this conversation. "Or 'Your Highness', if you prefer. I'm not sure your men would be impressed to hear you refer to me in a way that implies I'm your better, but I for one would quite enjoy it."

"Don't change the subject."

"What subject? There's nothing to discuss. It's none of your concern if I leave from time to time. I'm sure I've told you that I'm capable of doing things on my own," Laurent insisted. "And leaving my men behind is sometimes a necessity. I can't drag my entire company around every time I need to meet with potential allies. Or do you think me so gullible that I'm willing to just rely entirely on the beneficence of Akielos?"

"Don't pretend the last time you rode out was for some political mission," Damen said.

Laurent's hard expression challenged Damen to actually put his knowledge into words. "Were you looking for details? Did you want a play-by-play description of what took me away from camp then, perhaps?"

Damen's face said clearly that he'd like that very much, actually, but even he wasn't fool enough to actually dare to say so.

"What's the matter? Sad you missed your chance? Are you regretting freeing me just a little too soon to take proper advantage?" Laurent jeered.

"It's _why_ I let you go."

Laurent had, despite himself, suspected as much, even if he still had some trouble actually understanding it. It was one thing for Damen to have feared that Laurent going into heat in the middle of his camp would cause chaos. But why wouldn't he have just ordered for Laurent to be taken somewhere further afield, where the other Akielon Alphas couldn't catch his scent, for Damen to use in private? There was no denying that he clearly wanted Laurent himself. He could easily have had him then.

That was what the man whom Laurent had imagined killing for nearly six years now would surely have done. He hated when he started to see something other than that long-held image of Damianos, prince-killer.

"Well," Laurent declared, putting up his usual front of indifference, "in letting me go free, you'll find that you lost any ability to direct my movements. I can do as I please, then and now." 

"You're being reckless," Damen reprimanded.

"You wouldn't say that if I were an Alpha who was doing something without your permission," Laurent snapped.

"I would when you're letting your need to prove that you can do everything yourself impact on your safety. You took only half a dozen escorts, then," Damen emphasised. "Over a distance significant enough to obviously take more than a day's travel in each direction, at a time when you were hardly in peak condition to defend yourself against an ambush as well. Did you even choose your best men to protect you then?"

No, Laurent had to admit, because several of his best men were Alphas, and Damen had to have guessed that. He already knew Laurent's Captain was an Alpha, and that most of the men Laurent had brought with him to their supposed parley in Damen's encampment had been as well, so it stood to reason.

Laurent still said, "They were enough." 

"You're a _prince_ ," Damen continued. "You believe your Regent is trying to have you attacked, and the local lords and commoners all might have uncertain loyalties. You shouldn't be doing anything to make yourself an even easier target."

"That's rich, coming from you," said Laurent. "At least I'm not handing out swords to my enemies and hoping for the best."

"An attack with swords wasn't actually all that worried me."

Laurent glared. "You have no cause to worry on my behalf. Let me clarify something for you, since I'd hate for you to continue to be confused going forward: I'm not your Omega. You're not responsible for me, and you have no rights over me."

Damen appeared unmoved by that. "But as you've already made clear, your continued safety has bearing on Vere's actions towards Akielos. So I don't think I'm overstepping at all when I say that you need to at the very least take more soldiers for protection if you're leaving Ravenel. Yes, yes, I know, you don't think you need it. But there's a difference between being able to look after yourself and being able to fight off a band of twenty or more strong men single-handedly. Your uncle won't even need to target you himself if you let yourself be taken out by a stray group of raiders just because you didn't take precautions. Take a stronger escort this time. Please," he added, and something in Laurent's chest felt strange at the way he said that.

"I wasn't being reckless on my last trip," Laurent said, unsure why he was explaining himself. But he finished nonetheless. "If my uncle had known to place obstacles along the road that couldn't have been handled by a few men, then my entire troop probably wouldn't have been sufficient either. Stealth and haste were more of an advantage than numbers then. They will be again on this trip, though for a slightly different reason." He made it clear that that was his last word on the matter. Damen's sigh said he'd let it slide, but the 'for now' was clearly implied.

"Even more reason why I should come with you now," Damen tried to persuade him.

"You think you're equivalent to a whole company of men?" Laurent derided him. Then again, he recalled when he'd momentarily considered that Damen alone might almost have been enough to swing the battle against the entire force of Ravenel. He surveyed the scale of him; the barely restrained power of his body even when it was at rest. Perhaps there was something to that, even if Laurent would never admit it.

"No," Damen denied. "But I do think that if you need force and skill without numbers, I'm your best bet."

"Arrogant," Laurent accused.

"Accurate," Damen countered, and Laurent narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, but also in thought. 

"Fine, you can come," Laurent conceded. "But only because otherwise you'll just stubbornly ride in our wake anyway, and it would be a waste to have to make some of my men ride behind just to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't do anything idiotic."

"Thanks," Damen said sarcastically. 

"And because I suppose you can be nominally useful," Laurent said grudgingly. 

Damen's expression clearly conveyed that he wasn't sure whether he was looking forward to finding out exactly how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: So I received a couple of comments that suggested people might have read this last chapter as meaning that Laurent is off to deal with his next heat now and is letting Damen come with him. I was like, woah, woah, that wasn't what I intended at all! There's a very different purpose to their trip. Sorry if the way it's written misled anyone on that count. I don't want to bait anyone into believing there'll be porn in the next chapter or two, so I just want to clarify that Laurent's about halfway between heats at the moment, and he and Damen still have to figure some things out first anyway. We're staying in UST territory for a while longer yet.


	14. Chapter 14

Laurent only ended up recruiting ten men to travel alongside himself and Damen. Unlike his previous expedition, when there had been ample reason to choose a group of all Betas, this time eight of them were Alphas, and were some of his best fighters as well as being among his most loyal people. That might make Damen happier. Or otherwise he'd be very unhappy indeed if the men in question spent any part of the journey remarking slightly too loudly, as they were prone to do, on how sweet it would be to have Laurent bent over underneath them and begging for it.

Forget Damen's complaints about Laurent having previously only taken half a dozen men as protection. Laurent might end up with no Veretian men at all left to escort him by the time they reached their destination if the men in question weren't at least a little bit careful with their tongues. 

Laurent might have pre-warned his men that it was in their best interests to put a lid on it for once, but Laurent had no real idea of how to explain Damen's Alpha jealousy in a way that didn't risk suggesting that Laurent had done something to actually encourage Damen to become jealous over him. That was the last thing he wanted his men thinking. A contained group of them had brushed it off as an impossibility once, but that had been before Laurent and Damen had become allies. They probably wouldn't be so willing to ignore how Damen provided seemingly damning evidence that there might be something there after all every time he looked Laurent's way.

There were only ten of them, Laurent reasoned. If a fight did break out, he was more than capable of quashing it.

Even without the initial need for stealth, Laurent still wouldn't have taken significantly more men. He couldn't afford to leave Ravenel less than optimally defended that this point. Who knew what the rest of the Akielons would get it into their heads to do without Damen there? The gates of Ravenel would accordingly remain entirely closed except to let the Veretian soldiers in and out for daily manoeuvres, and even that was only because Laurent couldn't afford to interrupt whatever forward momentum the group had managed to achieve at this point in their combined training. This continuing preparation was the explanation he gave Jord for why he was to remain behind instead of accompanying Laurent, in fact. The reality was that he really needed someone whom he trusted to react swiftly if any move was made against Laurent's people.

If Laurent came back to find Ravenel under siege, though, he really was going to kill Damen for insisting he not be left behind where he could have kept his people in line.

They departed Ravenel just after daybreak on horseback, with their swords half hidden from sight under over-large saddle blankets, and trailed by a single wagon to both transport their gear and lend credence to the impression that they might be just itinerant tradesmen, at least at a distant glance.

Only a few minutes into the journey, Damen pushed his horse forward two body lengths, riding up close on Laurent's left hand side. The sun backlit him and left his expression in shadow as he turned his face to Laurent.

"Your sense of direction apparently leaves something to be desired. If you haven't noticed, we're currently headed south," Damen announced in Akielon so the other men wouldn't overhear.

"Aren't you perceptive. And here I've questioned your common sense all this time," Laurent quipped. "Didn't I tell you that you could make yourself useful?"

"We're travelling into Akielos?" Damen asked. He didn't sound as happy about the prospect of temporarily returning to his homeland as Laurent might have expected. 

"We are. I'm done with waiting around for other people to make their own moves," Laurent said. "I waited camped outside Ravenel for a month for my uncle to make his first real strike on me since I left Arles. I waited in place outside Breteau in anticipation of Ravenel's attack rather than riding out to meet them. Now I wait on the men of Akielos to decide where their loyalties lie. Enough."

"You're going to, what, go collect my bannermen and their armies and drag them all back to your side of the border?" Damen asked incredulously.

"I don't intend to have to drag them," Laurent said. "I intend to persuade them. But in order to persuade them, I actually need to talk to them. And if they aren't of a mind to let me within speaking distance of them –"

"Then it'll be a good thing that you have the Prince of Akielos as part of your company so that they wouldn't dare to just attack you on sight," Damen finished.

"See?" Laurent said. "Smarter than you look after all."

"You wouldn't have listened to me talk for hours about strategy and troop movements if you thought I was unintelligent," Damen reminded him. "Although, speaking of which, I can't help but notice now just how much your ability to speak Akielon has improved over the past few weeks. Intentionally, I imagine. You've been planning something like this for a while, haven't you?" 

"Mmm," Laurent agreed. "I didn't necessarily plan on riding into Akielos itself, but I knew I'd still need to convince your bannermen to stay with us even if they eventually rode to Ravenel at their own behest. I'd hardly be in the best position to do that speaking fractured Akielon or relying on a translator. I've been conversing with Nikandros as well, you know. It's win-win; I get to practice my language skills and we both get to talk about what an idiot you are."

"You don't talk about that," Damen said, but he didn't sound entirely sure of himself for once.

Laurent said, "Well no, Nikandros doesn't use the word 'idiot', but I'm sure it's only out of respect for you being his Prince. I assure you it's what he wants to say. And I say it often enough for both of us, anyway."

The next two hours passed to the sound of surprisingly jovial chatter from Laurent's men, very little of which seemed to be centred around Laurent himself for once, thankfully. Little did they know that they'd likely saved themselves a lot of trouble by chattering on about the servants and established occupants of Ravenel instead. Orlant, for example, had apparently found himself an apprentice blacksmith who didn't mind being bent over on anvil, which Rochert ribbed him about excessively. 

They seemed not to let the prince-killer's presence deter them from their good spirits. Part of it might be just the positive effect of a change in scenery overcoming their other feelings. It probably also helped, though, that Damen didn't really engage with their conversation. It didn't seem to be so much that he was holding himself at a princely distance from them, as Laurent tended to. Rather, he seemed well aware that he'd be rebuffed if he tried. These men had neither reason nor desire to listen to him. All told, they'd much prefer to attack him than talk to him, if only they were allowed to. 

Laurent certainly didn't feel sorry for Damen. It wasn't as if it hadn't been his choice to ride among enemies.

The landscape changed gradually as they delved across the border and into Akielos. Laurent expected that Damen's temperament would similarly improve more and more with each passing minute as he began to recognise the familiarities of home. Instead, if anything, the opposite seemed to be true. By the time Laurent called the group to a halt, Laurent caught an expression on Damen's face that could only be called worry.

"We're entering Delpha now. Makedon's company can't be too far away," Damen said, his eyes on the hills rather than on Laurent for once. Each sway of the trees seemed to catch his attention, as if he were worried the movement might be that of an archer getting into firing position.

"That's the hope," Laurent agreed. "We're heading to their last known location, according to Nikandros. He said it should take about three days ride, assuming the company hasn't moved any great distance in the meantime."

"I meant it as a caution, not a reassurance," Damen said. "The closer we get to Makedon's army, the less safe you are."

"You don't trust your own people?" Laurent asked. If so, it both was surprising and was one of the first perceptive things he'd heard from Damen that related to the topic of trust.

"Things could be volatile just now," Damen admitted. 

"I know. They probably want me dead almost as much as my uncle does at this stage," Laurent said. "Don't worry, though. I have a plan to make the journey through Akielos just a little less perilous."

"A plan," Damen repeated with a sigh, as if Laurent's plans weren't nearly always immaculate and effective. It was on the rare occasion when Laurent _didn't_ rely on an elaborate plan that things tended to go wrong. "Am I allowed to know the plan?" Damen asked.

"You'll see soon enough. We break for half an hour. If you want to make yourself useful, it would be helpful to have someone who patently looks as though he belongs on this side of the border take a high point to act as a lookout."

Damen looked by turns confused by the need for such a long break so early in the day and perhaps slightly offended at being given the busywork of a common soldier, but he didn't actually object. Laurent watched for a moment as he moved to find higher ground for a better prospect.

Laurent had one of his men quickly distribute the contents of a bundle from the wagon to the rest, and saw, amused, each and every one of them holding out the material they'd been given with looks of distaste. 

"Make it quick," Laurent ordered. "I'd rather we don't get caught here with our pants down."

Laurent himself grabbed a handful of white cotton and two pins and found a tree behind which he could duck, reaching for the laces of his shirt.

When Laurent returned and had one of his men deliver a sharp whistle to indicate they were ready to move again, he saw Damen, who was coming down from his uneventful watch, stop dead in his tracks.

"I..." Damen started, but couldn't seem to find words. His mouth gaped.

Laurent tried not to flush. He explained, "Obviously looking like this from the outset would have clearly communicated where we were going to those who stayed in Ravenel, which I didn't want. But I do understand the advantage of making ourselves a less distinct target before we move further into your country. Don't look so shocked. You've already seen that I'm no stranger to dressing like the enemy when I need to." 

Laurent was all too aware of the way the Akielon chiton draped over his body. It scratched slightly against his skin in a way that Laurent's usual silken coverings never did, and how Laurent knew Damen's higher quality clothing wouldn't either, having spent countless minutes trying and failing to get a grip on Damen's clothing as leverage when Damen had first captured him. Laurent was even more aware of the way the breeze rustled over the parts of him that _weren't_ covered by the chiton, which was quite a lot of him, actually. Laurent bravely fought the urge to adjust his new clothing as if he could magically make the ridiculously small scrap of material cover more of his skin. Instead, he stood there looking confident in his half-nakedness, even if he felt anything but.

As he wandered closer, Damen couldn't seem to stop studying the pale expanses of the bare skin of Laurent's thighs long enough to voice a single cogent thought about Laurent's plan, or about anything else either. When Laurent slid his foot back into the leather of his horse's stirrup and swung his other leg over, the already short white material pulled even higher. He heard a muffled thump and a distinctive grunt. He directed the horse to about face and was immediately treated to the sight of Damen planted almost flat on his face on the ground. That was quickly followed by the realisation that Damen had literally tripped over his own feet, like a clumsy adolescent rather than a seasoned warrior. Laurent took the moment in which Damen was picking himself up of the ground, and therefore no longer staring at him, to smile privately to himself. It served him right, Laurent thought.

Damen didn't seem at all bothered by the sight of ten other Veretians wearing similar garments. He might not have noticed them at all, Laurent thought. It was as if seeing Laurent dressed so crudely had affected him far more than catching Laurent in his sleeping clothes had. For the whole ride, his eyes only left Laurent to occasionally survey the surroundings for threats. Laurent tried not to notice that his expression during those sweeps was less simply assessing or concerned than it was jealous. It was as if he thought that if someone did try to attack them it would be to try to throw Laurent over their shoulder and haul him back to their lair. Trust an Alpha to think like that. Although, they were now in the land of the barbarians, so that kind of behaviour probably wasn't actually out of the question.

Laurent spoke more than enough for both of them for the rest of that day, the way he sometimes did to fill the silence when he was uncomfortable. If he were uncomfortable. He wasn't, though. He was just taking the opportunity to practise his Akielon again, knowing it would soon become useful.

"Where did you even get all of these Akielon clothes?" Damen asked at the end of the day, after he'd dismounted from his horse. It had finally seemed to occur to him that he was surrounded by a sea of white cotton and pale limbs instead of the usual riding leathers and starburst livery that he'd obviously been growing accustomed to seeing on Laurent's guards.

"You have an entire encampment of Akielons parked on my doorstep at Ravenel," Laurent reminded him. "I wasn't exactly short on resources."

Damen's head snapped around to look at Laurent again, this time in suspicion rather than admiration. His nostrils flared. "That doesn't belong to an Alpha soldier," he stated, but didn't sound entirely convinced of that. There was an edge to his tone, warning.

"Of course not," Laurent said. "I'm hardly going to voluntarily rub some Alpha's stench all over myself. Nor would the Alphas among my men put up with being offered another Alpha's hand-offs. You forget that there are Betas following your camp as well. One of them was more than willing to help when I asked nicely." Laurent pointedly didn't mention that he'd also bribed the man to keep his silence. Damen wouldn't react well to that.

"You? Nicely?" Damen asked.

"I'm more than capable of that, yes. You and your soldiers have just given me no real reason to be nice," Laurent said.

"Right. We only kept you from being overrun and killed by Touars and his army and helped you take his castle," Damen pointed out dryly. "And I let you go with barely a scratch when another man would have taken you for a trial or just plain executed you."

"And all while I was reminding you what an idiot you are," Laurent pointed out. "See? Why bother being nice when I get those kind of results without it."

Damen shook his head. "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with you if you suddenly started being nice, anyway."

"I'm so glad it works out for you too, then, since I had no intention of changing just for your sake."

"It does work for me," Damen said, too seriously. "I don't need you to put on a show. You should be yourself with me."

Laurent had no idea how to deal with the implications of that. Ignoring it forever seemed like a marvellous option compared to any of the alternatives, so he decided to go with that. Thankfully, for once Damen didn't push his luck further. He let Laurent disappear into his tent for the night without another word.

Damen pointed out early the next day, "If your plan is not to be recognised as Veretian, it won't work. Not with you at the head of the procession. There's no mistaking where you're from, with the way you look; anyone could tell that you're almost certainly either Veretian or a slave. And no one could see the way you ride like you own every inch of the ground you're travelling across and conclude you were the latter." 

"But will they see me from a distance, dressed like this, with only a small entourage of men around me, and think for a moment that I could be Prince Laurent of Vere in particular?" Laurent countered. Even Damen would have to admit that the thought would never cross their minds, since he himself had at first looked at Laurent like he'd never seen him before. "If they think I'm just another Veretian, they're likely to either leave me be or to capture me, in which case they'd be capturing you as well. If I were identifiable as myself from a distance, though, it would be easy enough to target me specifically and dispatch me with a throwing spear before we even knew we were being attacked. You wouldn't even necessarily ever know for sure who had done it."

"From a distance. You think they'd chance hitting me by accident?" Damen asked.

"That's assuming that you're as immediately recognisable to them, dressed as you currently are without all the trappings of royalty, as I would be in fine Veretian clothes and with my distinctive colouring," Laurent replied. "Anyway, I think Akielons are egotistical enough that I doubt it would occur to them that they might miss."

Apparently the plan worked well enough, for it didn't appear that Laurent was recognised as the Prince of Vere, or possibly even as Veretian at all, for those Akielon riders whom they spotted among the hills made no attempt to stop them. None of the riders they had yet seen had notched belts, so they stayed as unobtrusive as possible and kept moving. In the end, they made it almost to the end of the second day since setting out from Ravenel without running into any problems. 

Or without any problems for the group, anyway. For Laurent, Damen's shameless admiration for the way Laurent looked in a chiton definitely continued to be problematic.

As dusk started casting shadows across the jagged land on that second day, though, their luck ran out. But it likely wasn't because they'd finally been recognised, and it certainly wasn't Akielons who attacked. They were Vaskian, but unlike the last time Laurent had run into such men, this time it was Laurent's group that was outnumbered. The even bigger problem was that the Vaskians had the benefit of knowing the immediate terrain more intimately than any of Laurent's party, even Damen, despite this being his country and not theirs. This was likely their usual travelling route, and was probably a common hunting ground for them. 

"Dismount," Damen barked in Akielon, for Laurent's ears. Clearly he would have loved to command the men to do so directly, but they wouldn't have heeded any order from him anyway. Laurent saw what Damen had assessed: the Vaskians were on foot with long thrusting spears, giving them far more ability to reach the Veretians on horseback than the Veretians would be to reach them with their much shorter swords. Swords which they'd barely be able to put to full use anyway given how difficult it already was to guide their horses over the uneven ground, covered as it was in loose shale, let alone trying to do so at any kind of speed. Laurent's men weren't infantry, and so were most proficient in horseback combat, but Laurent trusted Damen's mind for battle even if he refused to trust anything else about him.

"Dismount and group," Laurent called out clearly, drawing his sword from his hiding place the moment his feet hit the ground.

The men reacted to his order without question. By the time the two forces converged on each other, the Veretians had readied themselves. 

It was easier on foot than it would have been from horseback for Laurent to knock the pointed tip of a spear to the side with his sword and get far enough inside the range of its thrust to render the spear nearly useless unless the man changed his grip on it dramatically, which Laurent gave him no opportunity to do. Being nearly body to body did hamper Laurent's own ability to swing his weapon as well, and Damen had already neatly proven that close quarters grappling wasn't exactly Laurent's forte. But unlike the spears, the entire length of Laurent's sword was potentially deadly. Even with less than a foot between them, Laurent still managed to get his hand up and drag the edge of the blade closest to the hilt across the Vaskian's jugular.

Another Vaskian noticed his comrade fall and took his place battling Laurent.

The Vaskians were scrappy, and were fighters by trade. It wasn't an easy battle. Laurent spared a moment, though, to be grateful that these were men, and not Vaskian women. The men had a propensity to treat victory as if it were their right, and overestimated themselves as a result. With the women, victory would have been a point of honour. The women would have had a knife in their other hand if the spear proved useless, and long sharp nails on their fingers if the knife was lost. They'd have clawed for a win right up until the end in a way these men didn't quite resort to. 

Laurent had just dispatched his own second opponent, and as he turned he caught sight of a point of aggregation in the fighting. Clearly the Vaskians had taken one look at Damen, who was by far the largest man in the group, and had picked him as the point of most resistance. Four men appeared to have ganged up on him. Fighting against several opponents at once had obviously driven Damen back and away from the rest of Laurent's men. By the time Laurent was free to look, two of Damen's attackers had fallen, bloodied, to the ground, and Damen was in the middle of dispatching a third. The remaining one was disarmed, but Damen hadn't finished him off. Even when the unarmed man started physically grappling with Damen, Damen showed no evidence of intending to actually put his sword to good use.

The fighting all over the slopes was quickly dying down; there were no Vaskians to take the place of the recently-dead one at Laurent's feet, and other Veretians were also finding themselves without opponents. But most of them were quite some distance from Damen now, including Laurent. No one was close enough at hand to offer quick assistance. It was questionable whether Laurent's men would actually have assisted Damen anyway unless Laurent directly ordered them to, and even then they'd have done it only under protest.

Laurent picked up the weapon from the body he'd just laid out on the ground and readied it above his shoulder. 

Laurent saw Damen's exaggerated blink as the spear suddenly dug into the Vaskian's neck and protruded out the other side with a sick thud that even Laurent, from this distance, could hear.

The injured Vaskian, clearly in a moment of unthinking panic, grabbed for the spear and wrenched at it. Damen recoiled as the soldier's warm blood sprayed over his arms and chest before the man's still-writhing body dropped away into the dirt. Damen gaped at the fallen man for a long moment. Then he turned his gaze, as if magnetically drawn, straight to Laurent, who now approached him. Damen was wide-eyed in a way that Laurent had never seen him before.

Perhaps he'd thought that he'd already witnessed Laurent's viciousness in a fight, but it was undoubtedly different seeing him kill at a distance, coldly, weighing up the odds unemotionally, compared with how he'd flung himself at Damen all full of rushing blood and rage.

"We don't have time for you to demonstrate your wrestling skills," Laurent chastised as he reached Damen's side. "Next time use your weapon before your opponent can take his chance to gouge your eyes out. You're no good to me blind. Or dead."

"He was disarmed," Damen protested. "I wasn't about to just strike him down."

As if that always stopped Damen, Laurent thought resentfully. But no, Auguste hadn't been unarmed. He'd been at a disadvantage, yes, but his sword had still been at the ready, even if he'd momentarily been too off-balance to use it to best effect.

For the first time it occurred to Laurent to wonder whether, had Auguste lost his sword in a similar way to how Damen had earlier in their fight, Damen would have offered him the chance to pick it up as well.

Laurent hated to admit it, but he thought that Damen might have.

"Do you think they were paid off by your uncle?" Damen asked.

Laurent surveyed the dead men. "I doubt it. If they were, they would have focused their efforts on me, not you. More likely we just looked a little too tempting when we happened to cross their path. The aim was to appear to be unarmed travellers, after all."

Damen picked up the discarded blood soaked spear, hefting it in his hand to test the weight distribution. "This wasn't even really made to be a throwing spear," he noted.

"I know. I still managed," Laurent said.

"If you recall," Damen commented, "you said that it would be conceited for the local soldiers to assume that a spear thrown at you wouldn't hit me by accident," Damen said. "Is it only arrogance when it's Akielons making assumptions about your skill? Or would you have considered it a bonus if you'd made a mistake and hit me instead?"

"Believe me," said Laurent, "if and when I put a spear through you, it won't be an accident."

"So you killed him because you just really wanted to make sure you'd actually get the chance to kill me yourself later?"

"I killed him because I need you. For now," Laurent corrected. "It's a pity he probably wasn't about to kill you, though. If I'd actually saved your life instead of just saving you from your own stupidity, I could have considered us even."

"I wasn't aware you were keeping score," Damen said.

"Always," Laurent replied. 

"Well I wish you wouldn't," Damen said.

"Afraid it'll eventually tip in my favour?" Laurent asked.

"Something like that," Damen said bitterly, in a way that really meant 'nothing like that at all'.

"I dislike being in your debt," said Laurent, feeling some strange compulsion to further explain himself. "I told you that I prefer us to be on equal footing."

"We are," Damen said, and sounded like he really meant it.

Laurent waved Damen's words off dismissively, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about them even as he ordered those among his remaining men who weren't seriously injured to dig graves for the three fallen Veretian men who hadn't survived the attack. 

"They died fighting," Rochert announced afterwards, "defending their Prince." He said it both to honour them and, Laurent thought, to reassure Laurent himself that they wouldn't have been overly sorry to die for him this way, even on a mission that might yet turn out to be less than successful. 

Laurent nodded as he looked out over the fresh graves, in acquiescence and thanks.

Once the men had paid their respects, they pushed through the falling darkness their group rode far enough to get some significant distance from the Vaskian bodies lying bloody and slain all over the hill.

When they finally stopped for the night, Laurent gauged how slowly three of the men moved as they erected their tents. These were not weak men, or shirkers. They were some of Laurent's best. If they were letting any impairment show, it must have been serious, even if Laurent doubted they'd admit as much to him.

"Can I trust Makedon's people to tend to our injured rather than take advantage of their current weakness?" Laurent asked Damen quietly in Akielon.

"Yes," Damen said. "It's not his way to attack a helpless man."

"Then we'd better hurry up and find his troop," Laurent said, "or the six fresh soldiers you complained about me taking on my last trip will soon start seeming like a luxury."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So eagle-eyed readers might have noticed by looking at the fic header that two milestones were just reached: 1. It's passed the 50K words mark, which some of you might recall is how long I stupidly thought this fic would be when I was under the impression that each chapter would only be about half the length of their current form and that there would be less of them. 2. Speaking of which, I've also added an approximate total number of chapters, since I've finally got my act together and figured out chapter by chapter what needs to go where. That count might go up or down by a chapter or so, depending, since it's not all written yet by a long shot and I might need to add or condense things a little. But you can at least see just how wrong I got it when I thought this fic was going to already be more or less finished at the length it's at now.


	15. Chapter 15

When they set out early on the third day, it was at a considerably more cautious pace, in deference to nearly half of their remaining group being injured. Rochert in particular was barely keeping his feet in the stirrups, his head nodding as if he were on the verge of falling into unconsciousness. 

It could have been worse, Laurent realised, had the odds been slightly further in the Vaskians favour the previous day; had Laurent brought a couple less men, or perhaps even if he'd just refused to let Damen accompany them after all. Laurent might not have exactly saved Damen's life yesterday, per se, but he couldn't say with any real certainty that Damen's presence and his tactical decision hadn't saved Laurent's. If anything, the scales might now be more skewed in Damen's direction than ever.

It could still get a lot worse now, if they weren't careful. They couldn't afford to have another run in, whether with soldiers or plunderers. But even for such a small party, remaining even partially hidden from notice grew progressively harder as the hills most closely flanking the border gradually evened out into grassy plains.

Laurent's pulse momentarily jumped as he caught sight of a distant group of four men. But it quickly became obvious that, for the first time since crossing the border, they were crossing the paths of men of Delfeur who weren't patrolling on horseback, wearing any kind of armour or uniform, or otherwise doing anything that suggested they were likely to be actively hostile. Instead, they barely glanced up at Laurent's group from where they were working the fields of what must have been the outskirts of a farm. Each of them wore a handmade garment that was clearly intended to be some approximation of a chiton, but which covered far more of their skin than anything Laurent had seen on a born Akielon. Certainly they were more conservative than the borrowed clothing that Laurent was currently wearing. The outfits were clearly a compromise between holding to the Veretian customs of decades past and conforming enough to Akielon fashion to avoid unnecessarily attracting unwanted attention from any soldiers who streamed through the area with a potential grudge against Vere that they'd like to work out.

It was odd, Laurent thought, to pass this group, who had obviously spent nearly six years now pretending to be Akielon in order to save themselves under the new regime, without even acknowledging them. It was especially grating to do so while himself pretending to be just another one of the barbarians, garbed in Akielon clothes, unable to reveal himself as their would-have-been Prince. Laurent would have much preferred to do something to let them know that he recognised their hardship; that he knew what it was to find himself surrounded by the enemy and to have to make personally difficult concessions in order to make the best of the situation.

Laurent wished that he could now fly the starburst banners proudly for these men, and for himself, but in these lands that would be far more hazardous than just wearing his usual Veretian clothes.

As if to highlight that, they hadn't even ridden another ten minutes before they caught their first glimpse of a notched belt. It was several notched belts at once, in fact. 

"Follow at a distance," Laurent ordered quietly. "Nothing good will come from us attracting Makedon's men's attention before we actually want him to know that we're here."

On this flatter terrain, though, Laurent wasn't sure how long they could hope to avoid detection, even trailing the soldiers at this distance. Luckily they didn't have long to follow before finding the encampment. 

When the edges of a sprawling grid of white canvas tents came into view, Laurent pulled his horse to a halt, and all of the men followed his lead. All, that was, except for Damen, who instead directed his mount around so that he was in front of Laurent, between him and his target. They faced each other.

"I should go first. Alone," Damen suggested. "This will go better if I pave the way."

Laurent hated having to rely on anyone else to determine his fate, especially Damen, but he couldn't deny the truth in that. Makedon wouldn't respond half as well to the Veretian Crown Prince riding into his camp uninvited as he would to the Akielon Crown Prince's arrival. 

Had Damen remained in place outside Ravenel while Laurent rode for Akielos, as Laurent had initially intended, Laurent would have been taking a significant chance that Makedon would just try to run him through on sight, or have his men do it, rather than listening to a word Laurent had to say. Damen's presence now significantly improved Laurent's odds of surviving the day unharmed and without a whole army riding at his heels. There'd be no plausible deniability if they attacked Laurent when Damen was right there in their camp and had reminded them in no uncertain terms that Laurent wasn't to be harmed.

Damen being there did also complicate things for Laurent, though, in several ways. He would have to work around them.

After Laurent agreed to Damen's proposal, Damen rode into Makedon's camp alone. He looked every inch a proud regal figure despite lacking the accoutrements and the pack of followers that one might expect for a travelling prince.

Laurent was left to watch from a far greater distance than he would have preferred as a man who was clearly Makedon himself came out to the edge of the camp to meet Damen. Damen dismounted and tossed his reins to a bowing servant, only to moments later receive similar bows from everyone else present. It was somewhat incongruous that Makedon and his men paid Damen the expected obeisance now, after having basically ignored their Prince's request to join him. The perfidy of it wouldn't have gone astray at the court in Arles, though Laurent thought that Makedon would likely deny acting anything like a Veretian courtier until his dying breath. 

As far as Laurent could see from here, there was no tension between them as a result of Makedon's behaviour. Perhaps Damen had slightly more ability to be diplomatic than Laurent had given him credit for, Laurent thought. Or maybe he really just hadn't noticed the snub implicit in Makedon failing to respond to his message. It was sometimes hard to tell these things with Damen.

When Damen eventually rode back to Laurent's side, he gave Laurent a rundown of the conversation he'd had with Makedon. They had organised an official meeting for that evening, Damen told him. They'd lay down ground rules then that would prevent any kind of attack between the Akielon and Veretian men, Damen promised. Makedon had also extended the use of his physicians to Laurent's men, as Damen had anticipated. There was nothing to worry about, Damen seemed to think.

Well, Laurent was already well aware that Damen could be idiotically optimistic and trusting, so he wasn't about to just take his word for it. And as he'd said when he set out on this journey, he was done waiting on the convenience of other men.

"I'd feel better if you were present while my injured men are treated," Laurent said. "Without a non-partisan witness, it would be so easy to claim that they'd just succumbed to their wounds."

Damen didn't seem pleased either by having the honour of the men of Akielos questioned or by the lack of safety in leaving Laurent alone with only four Veretian men so close to Makedon's encampment, which to Laurent seemed to be contradictory concerns. But ultimately Damen acquiesced. Laurent thought that probably had something to do with the way Laurent had put on his best imploring expression as he asked Damen to do it.

While Damen was gone, Laurent took advantage of his absence to ride to the edge of Makedon's camp and then to stroll into it like he owned the place, looking entirely at ease even in the borrowed Akielon clothing. He'd thought about changing back into his Veretian clothing, but this would be confrontational enough without throwing it into their faces that he was one of their most hated enemies. 

His outfit probably didn't help him, though, when he found Makedon overseeing some of his men sparring. Makedon had spent all of three seconds taking in Laurent's appearance combined with his regal stance before announcing, "Well now this insanity all makes sense."

Ah, Laurent thought in frustration, how nice to be judged by his looks yet again. He'd never get tired of it. And here Damen had told him that Makedon likely wouldn't have a problem with him being an Omega. 

"You know who I am," Laurent said in Akielon. "And your own reputation precedes you. I thought a fighting arena would be a more honest first meeting place between us than some banquet table where we'd be forced to play nice."

Makedon narrowed his eyes in consideration. "Candour, is it? Not much like a Veretian to be direct about these things."

No, Laurent thought, it wasn't really. Laurent was usually all about unlikely feints and quick adjustments, not just stepping right up and swinging as hard as he could. But Makedon would have expected to be confronted by Veretian doublespeak and trickery. Laurent figured that a different tactic might throw him off balance enough that he would be a little less guarded. In dealing with this kind of stubborn Akielon Alpha, it seemed prudent to take an approach more like something Laurent might expect of another tenacious Alpha of Akielos he knew.

"Still, Akielon and Veretian, facing off on the battlefield; that at least is just as it should be," Makedon acknowledged. "I hear that you at least supposedly fight better than your pathetic Veretian Alpha soldiers, Laurent of Vere." Laurent didn't miss the fact that he wasn't granted his honorific, or the fact that news of his otherwise unexpected talent with a sword had travelled in this direction. Either Damen's army outside Ravenel had cracks, or Laurent's scouts had failed to notice that Makedon had scouts of his own inside Vere. "Have you ventured into Akielos to attempt to prove yourself against tougher foes? The blood on your chiton suggests that that's your intention," Makedon observed.

It was only a few small spots of blood, none of it Laurent's. Apparently Makedon's eyes were sharper than Laurent might have expected given his age if he'd noticed them. Unfortunately the only person who had brought extra clean Akielon garments to change into was Damen, and there was absolutely no way Laurent was voluntarily putting on something covered in his scent. He'd live with the blood. 

"It's not Akielon blood," Laurent assured him. "I daresay Prince Damianos already mentioned that we eradicated a group of Vaskians inside your territory, which was what led to my men being injured. You're welcome, by the way."

"And now that you've bested the kind of rebellious little boys who would run away from the rule of the Vaskian women, will you step up and test your skills against real men instead?" Makedon challenged.

Laurent shrugged and said, "Why not? Send me your best."

Makedon undoubtedly thought this would be an opportune moment to try to strike down a threat while being able to explain it away to Damen as an unfortunate accident. These things happened during duels sometimes, and Laurent had been the one to insist that he had the skills to handle fighting Makedon's finest warriors with sharp swords instead of wooden practice equipment.

But Laurent wasn't about to give any Akielon the satisfaction seeing him beaten, let alone killing him. He unsheathed his sword.

Laurent was used to being seen as just an Omega, and subsequently being misjudged or coveted, or both. And it was true that Laurent could tell that Makedon did look down on him, and in many ways underestimated him. But Laurent also watched as, for once, being an Omega paradoxically helped him to gain some level of respect far more quickly than he'd otherwise have managed. 

Damen had been right (again, Laurent thought sourly) when he'd predicted that Laurent being an Omega might actually be an advantage here. Makedon would probably have resented Laurent for showing his men up if Laurent had been an Alpha himself. As an Omega, it was instead merely impressive to him that Laurent could more than hold his own. Worse, if Laurent had been an Alpha, or perhaps even a Beta, Makedon wouldn't have been quite so cavalier about the idea that Damen had taken up Laurent's cause purely on the basis of Laurent's more obvious physical charms. He'd instead have probably been convinced that Laurent would ambitiously exploit Damen's regard in order to effectively collar and leash the Prince of Akielos. Makedon's Alpha pride, however, couldn't conceive of an Omega ever managing to do such a thing to an Alpha.

So instead of being at each other's throats, an hour later Laurent was seated beside Makedon at the head of a hastily put together Akielon table, like a vaunted guest of honour.

"What?" Damen said when he arrived from his vigil in the infirmary tents. Apparently word had finally got back to him that someone had called for a day of feasting and drinking in the Akielon camp in the place of the more official meeting that Damen had intended to stage. 

"But… there's no bloodshed," Damen said, glancing at Makedon to Laurent's right, like the sight of the two of them sitting beside each other without one of them bleeding half to death was an impossible one. 

"Some of us can resolve our problems with words instead," Laurent sniped. 

"And drink!" Makedon added, downing another cup and forcing Laurent to do the same to show that he could keep up. "It appears Veretian princes are both better fighters and better drinkers than we've been led to believe."

Laurent bared his teeth in a not-quite-smile.

"Better fighters?" Damen prompted.

"Prince Laurent challenged three of my best duelers to a demonstration of skill and swordsmanship."

"Did he now. And did he beat them?" Damen asked. 

"It was a draw," Makedon said cagily, which of course meant 'yes', and even Damen had to know that. He would have known before Makedon had said a word. The fact that they were here drinking together was itself an acknowledgement that Laurent had done something that had awed the general enough for him to overlook the fact that Laurent was Veretian.

"We should still arrange a real tournament, though. We could have a battle between Princes to prove once and for all which kingdom is better," Makedon suggested. It was very obvious who Makedon believed would win such a match-up, even after having spent the afternoon watching Laurent prove his mettle with a sword.

"We've already had that battle," Laurent assured him.

"Yes, and I seem to recall you using a knife, then," Damen pointed out. "And now it turns out you've spent the afternoon using a sword to prove your point as well. So much for solving your problems with words."

"I said I _can_ resolve things with words. But you were the one who once said that my mouth was my best weapon. I didn't think it would be fair to leave the rest of you at too much of a disadvantage," Laurent said.

"Your little viper is feisty," Makedon said to Damen in a loud whisper that Laurent was surely meant to overhear; if not, then Makedon must be a lot drunker than Laurent thought. "I bet he's wild between the sheets, isn't he?"

"He'd be the absolute last person to know either way," Laurent said. He resented being referred to as Damen's anything far more than being called a snake.

Makedon laughed and slapped Laurent on the back like they were old friends, which made Damen's eyes go impossibly wide and nearly sent Laurent sprawling into his cup. Laurent blamed the drink for putting him off balance, of course, for otherwise Laurent would have made sure that Makedon couldn't move him for anything, even by physical force.

"So you can plainly see that Vere doesn't exercise any undue influence over Akielos," Damen told Makedon seriously. "Prince Laurent can barely stand to look at me for long enough to talk officially, never mind anything else."

"I'd invite you to join us to try and change that," Laurent told Damen dryly, "but there appears to be no room at this end of the table. Such a shame."

"Oh no, it's fine," Damen replied. "I'm not sure my heart could take sitting through a whole night of you and an array of my countrymen getting along like the oldest of friends anyway."

Laurent leaned into his seat casually and gave him a jaunty wave as Damen backed away, keeping his eyes on Laurent all the while, to find a place to sit and recover from the shock of Laurent suddenly being almost as readily accepted as any Akielon.

"Another!" Makedon said, and Laurent, hiding his grimace, held out his hand for another cup as well. Orlant, whom Laurent had referred to as his servant so that he could both act as an ever-present bodyguard and discreetly test anything that Makedon intended to serve up to Laurent, seemed to laugh at his Prince's expense as he supplied Laurent's next drink. He'd likely regret that when they were back in Ravenel and running drills, Laurent decided.

Soon enough, the assortment of slaves that had been creeping silently around the table seemed to start discreetly offering something more than liquid refreshments to anyone who wished to partake. Laurent half expected to see them duck beneath the table or even be bent over in a barely-concealed corner the way they might have been in Vere, but instead he watched as several of the men Laurent had already spoken to that evening each simply tapped a slave on the shoulder, a clear signal, and quietly made their way out of the public revelries, presumably seeking out their own tents. 

"Thank you for the kind offer," Laurent said diplomatically when Makedon offered him his best male Beta slaves, "but I already have my hands full." His eyes flicked meaningfully to Orlant, who was still playing the role of barely-capable servant, though his pre-sampling of the alcoholic beverages had him starting to wobble in place.

Orlant's sly smile suggested he wouldn't at all mind having Laurent deign to use him as the Akielons would use a slave.

Orlant would be on watch for a week straight without sleep when they got to Ravenel, if he wasn't careful.

Makedon sized Orlant up and accepted Laurent's excuse with good grace, though he did make a crack about Veretian fortitude. Laurent breathed a sigh of relief. He had no desire to have to lug a slave he had no intention of using back to camp with him.

Though Damen seemed less eager to forego the slaves' attentions, judging by what Laurent saw as he glanced along the length of the table. Damen's lips were presently lingering at the fingertips of a pale-skinned blonde slave girl, who was apparently just Damen's type. She was pressed along the line of Damen's side from her barely-covered breasts down to the swell of her hips. As far as Laurent could see, she was practically writhing in Damen's lap. Some deeply-buried part of Laurent wanted to rip her off him. He blamed it on the alcohol, which was surely keeping him from thinking clearly. He wasn't so impaired, though, that he couldn't manage to remind himself that she didn't have a choice about being there. She wasn't the one at fault.

Laurent redirected his ire towards the person who actually deserved it. Laurent only had to glare thunderously across the room for about twenty seconds before Damen, who Laurent knew had been visually checking on Laurent ever since he'd walked away earlier, met Laurent's stare. 

Seeing he finally had Laurent's attention, Damen said something that made the slave girl extricate herself sinuously from Damen, leaving Damen free to climb to his feet.

"Having fun?" Laurent asked crisply when Damen approached.

Damen looked pointedly down at the countless cups laid out in front of Laurent. "Are you?" 

"I think we have very different definitions of fun," Laurent replied, this time in Veretian so the other men around them, especially Makedon, wouldn't understand what he was about to say and take offense. "I find that your definition disgusts me," he told Damen in no uncertain terms.

Damen frowned, as if he had no idea what Laurent's problem could possibly be this time. 

Laurent looked back across the room. The slave girl hadn't moved, as if Damen had told her to wait there for him. He wouldn't have even had to say a word to secure her in place, actually. Laurent doubted she'd even breathe without permission, let alone walk away from a prince who might later want to make use of her. She sat there alone now, looking small in a room mostly filled with burly Alpha males. Her eyes were lowered demurely.

"What's her name?" Laurent asked as soon as Damen had seen what Laurent was looking at. "Or didn't you even bother to find out?"

"Melita," Damen said, now sounding wary, as if he were now becoming aware that this wasn't going to end well. 

"Pretty," Laurent said. "I'll have to remember it. After all, I really do have to thank Melita for having a hand in reminding me what kind of man you apparently are."

Damen's frown deepened.

"Tell me, do you prefer it when they're too submissive to even try to say no?" Laurent asked scathingly. 

"What?" 

"I don't understand you," Laurent admitted. "You make no sense. Why would you even bother turning down the opportunity to fuck me when I was your prisoner, just because I made it clear that I didn't want it, only to take a slave girl who has been trained to not even understand the concept of deciding what she wants for herself?"

Damen said guiltlessly, "I wasn't 'taking' her. She was just feeding me grapes. It's what slaves do at a feast. It's my understanding that you have men and women in Vere who do the same, even if you don't call them 'slaves'."

Laurent would have been almost as appalled to see Damen playing with her if she'd been a willing pet. Strangely, that had little to do with the anathema of unmarried men and women touching in that way. Laurent didn't want to further analyse the reason for that feeling.

"What about an hour from now? Don't tell me you're not intending to fuck her, or another slave just like her," Laurent accused.

"I'm not," Damen said resolutely. It didn't register as a lie.

"Perhaps not," Laurent said. "But is that because you'd never do that sort of thing, or just because you're currently too busy trying to sway me into your bed instead?"

Damen's silence spoke volumes.

"Exactly," Laurent said.

"I know you probably think otherwise, but our slaves surrender themselves to service willingly," Damen said, imploringly. "Ownership in Akielos isn't synonymous with cruelty or exploitation. I would never mistreat a slave, any more than I would a free man or woman." 

Laurent wasn't certain whether the fact that Damen actually seemed to believe that made it slightly better or so much worse.

"Boys, boys," Makedon interrupted with a slur, looking between Laurent and Damen. "Those aren't the kind of looks that befit a party. Luckily I know just the cure for that: more griva." 

Makedon might not have understood their actual words, spoken in a foreign tongue, but Laurent's tone and expression would have been more than enough to make it obvious that they were arguing. Alcohol or not, Makedon seemed sharp enough to make something of that.

Laurent couldn't afford to give Makedon any additional excuses to protest against Damen's alliance with Laurent. Laurent looked away from Damen pointedly, a clear dismissal, and held out his hand for another cup. "More griva," he agreed. 

He just hoped that Makedon would cry off for the night before meeting him drink for drink meant that Laurent consumed enough to dim Laurent's memory of this night. It wouldn't do to start to forget Damen's nature again.

"Ha!" Laurent exclaimed some time later when Damen's face swam into his blurred vision. "Look, he's miraculously not already off fucking the first person he can find who'll let him."

"You're drunk," Damen admonished.

"So I am," Laurent admitted. 

"I get the feeling you're going to make me regret seeing you like this," Damen murmured. Laurent wasn't sure he was supposed to catch that, but his hearing seemed to be the one sense the griva hadn't seriously impaired. "I should get you to bed."

"Bed. Right. You," Laurent said, poking his finger into Damen's chest demonstratively, "can go back to your bed full of slaves, and I can go back to my empty tent," Laurent said. "And all's right with the world. Except how nothing's right, because you're _you_ and there's no way I should be drunk here, with you, when you're… whatever the hell you are."

Damen caught Laurent's hand within both of his and pulled it so the whole palm rather than just his fingertip was flush against Damen's chest. Laurent thought he could feel a heartbeat under his hand. He could certainly feel the hard plain of muscles.

"Laurent, there aren't any slaves waiting for me," Damen admitted.

"Because I sent her away. Poor Damianos, alone for the night because the frigid Omega Prince of Vere rained on his parade."

Damen sighed. "Not just tonight. There have been no slaves since our agreement was struck."

"Oh, well, a whole few weeks since you last took advantage of someone! That certainly is inspiring. Suddenly makes sense that you're so desperate to bed me," said Laurent. "Is it really so hard to suddenly go without a daily tumble when you're so used to it? I wouldn't know. I've never…"

"Lain with someone?"

"Wanted to," Laurent finished without meaning to. He felt his face burning. He blamed the griva for both the words and the blush.

"And I've never wanted someone quite like I want you," Damen countered. "I barely see the slaves anymore."

Laurent choked out a humourless laugh. "Do you think that makes it better? I bet that bedding a slave has always meant very little to you. Just drop them when you're done and move on without a thought. But that you'd take advantage of someone vulnerable, who doesn't know how to say no, and who is utterly at your mercy every moment of every day… that means _everything_ to me."

"I don't…" Damen started, but didn't seem sure what he'd meant to say, or what he _could_ say.

"I need to get out of here," Laurent decided aloud. "Before your stupidity makes me say something that will undo the work I did with Makedon today."

"All right," Damen said, still sounding faintly stunned. "I'll take you back to your camp."

"I don't need your help. I'm fine," Laurent insisted. "Makedon's the one who couldn't even stack his cups," he pointed out. "And look, they're going to have to _carry_ him out. I win."

Laurent was on his feet almost before he'd realised that he'd intended to get up. And then he nearly was on the ground, because his legs felt unsteady. Laurent didn't like it at all. It felt too similar to the effects of heat. Laurent couldn't understand why anyone would willingly do this to themselves except to prove a point, or to build up a tolerance to make it possible to prove a point in future. To force this kind of weakness on oneself just for 'fun' and without any kind of gain would be the height of folly.

Laurent pushed Damen away and staggered over to Orlant, intending to get him to escort Laurent back to camp instead. Orlant, however, was on the verge of drunkenly dozing. While he did rouse when Damen nudged him, he looked unsteady himself, and so would be little use in helping Laurent walk in a straight line. With the rest of Laurent's soldiers still back at the Veretian camp, guarding it against the possibility of Akielons setting traps for Laurent to return to unawares, Laurent had little other choice than to accept Damen's arm around his shoulders. As per usual, Damen was the lesser of the evils, though barely.

"I'm just using you as a crutch," Laurent made sure to point out. "Don't read anything more into this."

"I wouldn't dare," Damen said.

They didn't take their horses, because even if they'd ridden two in the saddle with Damen trying to keep a grip on Laurent, any jarring motion would likely have sent Laurent flying, making it too dangerous, especially in the dark. Laurent didn't recall most of the long walk they had to embark on instead. He vaguely recalled that he'd talked through a lot of it, though not what he'd talked about. He definitely did remember leaning heavily against Damen. The alternative was to find himself face down in the dirt the way Damen had been days ago, but without the relatively easy ability to pick himself up again like Damen had then. Damen bore his weight easily. 

Despite himself, Laurent found himself thinking, as he focused on the flexing of muscles against him, that this was the body that Laurent's heat-affected wandering mind had imagined holding him and moving against him. Laurent couldn't quite reconcile that with the idea that this same body might hold him, or someone else, down in a far more sinister way. Everything about Damen's demeanour over the past weeks had screamed that Laurent's expectations of him had been wrong. But then there was this, which was more in line with first impressions of Damen's physicality and with Laurent's preconceptions of him.

It was puzzling, and disturbing, that Laurent didn't just allow himself to feel vindicated that he'd been right all along about the prince-killer being a rapist brute. 

The weakness from the drink wasn't just physical, it seemed, for Laurent felt like he couldn't quite think straight just now.

The next thing Laurent recalled was Damen pushing a white canvas tent flap aside for him.

"S'not my tent," Laurent protested with a slur.

"No," Damen agreed. "That's where you're expected to be. You're in no condition to defend yourself right now if a few of Makedon's men thought to stop by and try to earn his favour by striking out at you. You'll be safer here, just in case. You have my word on that."

"Your word," Laurent repeated, making a disbelieving noise. However, even after the reminder he'd been given that night, and even though he was drunk, Laurent still could take one look at Damen and judge that he meant Laurent no harm. His face was a study in open earnestness. 

Laurent didn't fight against it when Damen pressed him gently down onto a surprisingly comfortable sleeping pallet. Damen's hand lingered on Laurent's shoulder for just a moment before brushing lightly down his arm as it pulled away. Laurent pressed his face into the soft pillow and inhaled deeply, his body going lax.

"Go to sleep. I promise you can chew me out properly in the morning," was the last thing Laurent heard, where someone who'd barely met Laurent might have sweetly wished him 'good night'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So parts of this and even more so the next upcoming chapter were kind of uncomfortable to write, and probably to read, particularly if you subscribe to the Damen-is-a-pure-cinnamon-roll school of thought. But starting to deal with it now is absolutely integral for this relationship to move in any kind of healthy direction. Unlike Laurent in canon, who basically lets his hatred of Damen more or less drag him down to the level of slaveowner himself, Laurent as an Omega in the circumstances of this fic just would not roll with that shit. It's a lot more personal for him. The good news is that although this might feel like a one step forward two steps back situation, in the long term it'll be a good thing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there are so many chapters and not a lot of time for me to post them all, here's an extra update for the weekend.

Laurent was dying. It hadn't been griva in his cup after all, unless 'griva' was some obscure Akielon word for a poison with which Laurent hadn't previously been familiar. He was definitely well acquainted with it now. He would have said it was lucky he'd survived consuming such an obviously toxic substance, but he didn't feel overly lucky just then.

Orlant was clearly a poor taste tester, Laurent decided, and it would serve him right if he were experiencing as much pain this morning as Laurent.

Part of Laurent was desperate to just roll back over and yield to sleep, giving his head and body more of a chance to recover before he had to go deal with the world. But if he did that, the entire day would slip past him. Laurent wasn't one of those dissolute courtiers who were willing to drink their weight every night and sleep the days away. He didn't have that kind of time to waste. And, he remembered, he wasn't even a mile from a whole encampment of enemy soldiers, so sleep was more of a dangerous luxury than ever. 

Dragging himself into full wakefulness was horrific. Laurent's brain was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His eyes felt dry and crusty. He was fairly certain there was even congealed drool down the side of his face. Part of Laurent wanted to capture this moment in time and show it to all of the Alphas in Vere, and especially to Damen; surely no one would ever look at him as an object of desire again if they could see him now, like this.

Laurent hoped that whatever goodwill he'd accumulated with Makedon made all of this worth it, at least.

He could at least take care of the physical mess, even if there was no easy way to take away the pain or clear his mind much at all. Laurent's first instinct was to send for a servant to draw him a bath, and then to dress him, because he was fairly certain that given his current levels of coordination he'd still be lacing himself up late that night when it was time to start undressing again. But there were no servants here, and things with Makedon weren't so solid that donning his Veretian clothes would necessarily be the best option yet. And those clothes weren't here anyway, because this, it took Laurent several too-long moments to realise, out of it as he still was, wasn't actually his own tent.

It was fairly obvious to whom it actually belonged.

Based on sight alone, it would have been hard to tell for sure that it was the property of a prince. In direct contradiction to the relative opulence of the tent Laurent travelled with, this could almost have housed a common soldier, but for several understated but affluent touches, like the quality of the sheets against Laurent's skin. Laurent didn't have to rely on the way it looked, though. The tent was infused with not just the scent of an Alpha generally, but of Damen in particular. Being so surrounded by it made the fine hairs on Laurent's arms stand on end in a strange way that Laurent, even under torture, would still have refused to admit wasn't actually unpleasant.

Of course, that was when Laurent realised that he'd clearly spent the night rolling around in that scent, spreading lingering traces of Damen all over himself. 

He really should kill him, Laurent decided. Not at some unknown point in the future, when Damen had worn out his usefulness and Laurent could be sure that he'd adequately repaid the life debt he owed him, but the moment he next saw him. For Damen could have easily handed Laurent over to the three entirely sober soldiers who'd stayed at camp, and they could have guarded Laurent against the kind of attempted attack about which Damen had voiced concern. Clearly Damen had instead decided that it seemed like a better option to put Laurent in a position where he'd be in Damen's bed, luxuriating in Damen's scent all throughout the night, waking up tangled in Damen's sheets and clutching reflexively at Damen's pillow.

And Laurent had willingly _fallen asleep_ here, too easily, probably lulled into complacency by the familiarity of that encompassing scent. It should have smelled like a threat, not a comfort. It felt like Laurent was losing perspective, and he couldn't really just blame the griva, because in many ways it preceded that. Damen might want to bed him, but that hardly stopped him from being a danger to Laurent. Quite the opposite. Laurent should do something about that.

Luckily for Damen's continued survival, he'd at least thought to blatantly leave out a small pitcher of water and a clean cloth, which Laurent used to scrub away the worst of the Alpha scent. It wouldn't completely erase Damen from his bare skin or from the chiton he was still wearing, but it would have to be enough until Laurent could find somewhere where he could soak himself. Even if there had been a full bath on offer right there in the tent, Laurent wasn't sure he would have willingly undressed completely just then. Damen had proven that he was more than willing to barge in on Laurent uninvited, and that had been even when he wasn't inside Damen's territory.

As if to prove his point, when Laurent looked up it was to see Damen looking back at him with assessing eyes. It wasn't a surprise, even though there had been no noise to give away his approach. Perhaps that was because he clearly hadn't had to approach at all, Laurent realised; he'd only had to stand up and push the tent flap aside.

"It'll help if you actually drink some of that water as well," Damen suggested, indicating the pitcher with an outstretched hand, though his eyes were instead trailing the path of the water that was no longer in the jug, but rather was tracing over and dripping from Laurent's skin.

Laurent discarded the damp cloth and called forth a deathly glare.

"You look like you sat outside on the ground all night," Laurent reproached.

Damen shrugged. "I did promise you that I'd make sure you'd be safe here. Though you probably don't remember that, or half of what happened after you fell prey to the fact that Makedon's griva is strong enough that it would be banned in Ios, if anyone actually wanted to drink it there anyway."

"I remember the important things," Laurent said. "Like that you've probably bedded hundreds of slaves over the years without ever giving it a second thought."

Damen said nothing. He didn't verbally defend himself the way he'd tried to the previous night, but Laurent thought that was likely because he sensed that any protests would only rile Laurent further, not because he'd suddenly acknowledged that his actions were indefensible. 

In the cold, sober light of day, it was more obvious than ever that Damen could only see his own perspective on this; the typical Akielon perspective. Being raised steeped in his people's customs of slavery clearly hadn't done him, or by extension Laurent, any favours.

In exasperation, Laurent said, "You honestly don't even get it, do you? How can one man be so good with battle strategy but so blind about most everything else of importance?"

"See what?" Damen said.

"So many things. Let's start with those pale-skinned blonde slaves you like so very much. Has it occurred to you that they were likely Veretians captured as children during one of the clashes between our countries? Those are my people, made lower than dogs," Laurent said bitterly. "I'll put it in a way that you might understand: that could easily have been _me_."

"Whatever else you might think about enslavement, you would never have to worry about that yourself," Damen assured him.

"Do you imagine that just being a prince would be enough to save me from ill use?" Laurent asked. "It won't. My rank is habitually either ignored or treated as an invitation." 

There were so many more Alphas than Omegas in Vere that marrying an Omega was treated as even more of a status symbol than having an expensive pet. An Alpha had to be especially powerful to have managed to get one, or so went the thinking behind it. Laurent was only too aware that the Omega Prince of Vere was seen as the ultimate prize to be caught. And 'caught' really was the right word for it. No one talked about these things directly to a prince, of course, and certainly not to an Omega prince, but Laurent was hardly blind to something that was so fundamental to the workings of the court. He'd seen enough dead-eyed Omegas at the sides of Alphas who had risen in influence to see the truth of it.

Laurent was reluctant to air Vere's dirty laundry in front of Damen, but it would do little good strategically if Damen didn't understand the kinds of attacks Laurent might have to defend against. Besides, at least then Damen couldn't claim that Laurent was just being unfairly critical of Akielos when he disparaged their treatment of their slaves. 

So Laurent explained, "It's an often-used tactic for less scrupulous Alphas to get themselves an Omega by purposely targeting one who's going into heat. An unmarried pregnant Omega in Vere has an impossible choice between turning to a different kind of abuse as the one way they'll be permitted to earn enough money to avoid starvation in the streets after being thrown into shame, or legitimising the child by accepting the proposal of the Alpha who bred his get on him against his will. My uncle would dearly like to make that series of events unfold for me."

"And you call my kingdom barbaric," Damen said, looking sick. "We would never do that to our Omegas."

"That's only because bastards aren't feared in Akielos, so such a ploy by an Akielon Alpha simply wouldn't work," Laurent said dismissively. "Don't act like Akielos isn't much worse in other ways. I've seen it. This is not my first time in Delfeur, you know. I was at Marlas."

Damen clearly hadn't known that, based on his surprised look.

"Imagine if back then I'd been one of the scores of Veretian children taken against their will as the spoils of your supposed victory," challenged Laurent. "I'd have been just thirteen years old, newly smelling of Omega, and physically looking every inch the Alpha Crown Prince's preferred type. My being a prince wouldn't have saved me then, either, with my uncle surely quick to cry that both his poor nephews had died in the battle. Who would have listened to my claims? You?" Laurent scoffed. "I bet you never even see the slaves in training until they're handed to you as docile shells ready to be put to use. I'd have never reached that stage any more than I'd ever submit to marrying a rapist who subdued me during heat. Had they tried to train the will out of me so that I could be used as a plaything by the man who killed my brother, I'd have died before I was ever given to you. I'd have made _sure_ I died first, if it came to that."

Damen frowned heavily, looking disturbed. "You would never give in that way. You'd have bided your time, and killed me in my bed during your First Night," he said. It was as if he were using those words to reassure himself, which was ridiculous. Did the man even hear himself sometimes?

But there might have been some truth to it, at least as Laurent was now, reforged. Thankfully Laurent wasn't that broken boy of thirteen anymore. If the circumstances were that dire, Laurent might be able to make himself do almost anything. Maybe.

Laurent considered, "It would have killed me in a different way to let you touch me under those circumstances, but at least I'd have taken you with me. If I'd been willing to do absolutely anything, even that, I would never have failed on that count."

"I know," Damen said seriously.

Damen paused for a time, hopefully actually thinking for once. 

"Your men wouldn't allow those kinds of fates to befall you now, you know," he finally said. "To many of your soldiers, you're already King. If someone hurt you that way, they'd strike them down and then stand by you."

"That's hardly the point I was making," Laurent protested.

"I know," Damen said. "But I think you still need to hear it. You don't seem to know your own power over those men sometimes. They wouldn't abandon you."

"Some of them," Laurent said dubiously. "I currently have command of hundreds of soldiers, some of whom may still have split loyalties, and whose integrity I've had little opportunity to explore, since I have so many people and things to see to all at once. Even when I was only in command of a much smaller Prince's Guard, not a whole troop, there were still bad apples. The risk is still just as real even with an army and a fortress to my name. It only takes one ambitious Alpha and one moment of inattention."

"I wouldn't let that happen," Damen said fiercely. "Not just the aftereffects, either. I wouldn't let anyone touch you, during heat or otherwise, unless you wanted them to."

Laurent made a disbelieving noise. "Not even you, I suppose."

"Especially not me," Damen confirmed. "I wouldn't want it unless _you_ wanted it. Unless you asked for it."

"That will never happen," Laurent informed him.

"If it was a choice between 'never' and taking advantage of you the way you seem to worry I might," Damen said, "then I would happily live with knowing you're out of reach."

"And yet you're perfectly willing to take advantage of others. If what you say is actually true, that just makes you a hypocrite," Laurent pointed out.

"I admit that I see some things differently when it's you," Damen acknowledged.

"You shouldn't. At least not when it comes to this."

Damen looked uncomfortable. "Maybe not," he said, and then lapsed into a ruminating silence.

Laurent studied him, unsure if he was just telling Laurent what he wanted to hear. But Laurent had been easily able to tell on those rare occasions when Damen made even the slightest attempt to hide anything. Laurent wasn't sure he could actually be disingenuous, even about this. 

Damen eventually announced that he was returning to Makedon's encampment to discuss Makedon's intentions after he and Laurent had found some kind of mutual understanding the previous day. Laurent insisted on accompanying him. 

"I'm not about to let you inadvertently wreck all of my good work," Laurent explained.

"I'm not actually incompetent, you know," Damen said.

"Not when it comes to some things," Laurent admitted. "But even if Akielos isn't quite as much of an obvious political minefield as Vere, when it comes to diplomacy you're a bull in a room of antiquities. Not unlike Makedon himself. There are better ways to spend our time than letting you two repeatedly lock horns without actually making any progress, don't you think?" 

"Are you supposed to be the matador in this description?" Damen said dryly.

Laurent's understanding of Patran culture was that the matador killed the bull in the end, so that seemed like a relatively apt metaphor to him. Still, he thought that it probably wasn't the best time to remind Damen of that just before an already touchy meeting when Laurent really needed Damen entirely on his side.

"You don't give me enough credit," Laurent said instead. "Obviously I'm the one who's actually running this whole bullring."

In the end, Damen got the official meeting he'd intended after all, and only a day late. Though Laurent hesitated to call it 'official' any more than his chats with Damen when he'd been a prisoner in Damen's camp had really been a proper parley. Apparently Akielons didn't like to do these things in a way that was anything other than casual, at least not this far from Ios. Laurent was almost waiting for the moment when Makedon leaned back and propped his dirty boots up on the negotiation table.

It wasn't that Makedon didn't treat Damen with his own kind of respect. He might not have rushed to answer Damen's call to arms due to a lack of belief in the cause Damen intended to fight for, but there could be no doubt that Damen was still Makedon's Prince, and that he'd gladly serve him just as he had Damen's father when Damen took the throne one day.

But there was a difference between being a Prince and being King, as Laurent was well aware. For the same reason as Nikandros often acted like he and Damen were the closest of friends rather than ruler and subject, Makedon, who was twice Damen's age, gave the impression that he viewed Damen as some distant nephew who had yet to grow fully into manhood. Damen would, Laurent thought, probably surprise Makedon quite a lot if Makedon was ever treated to the sight of Damen cutting a swathe through a battlefield. 

"What's in this for Akielos?" Makedon finally asked, getting to the essence of the matter. "And I don't mean that rubbish about spoils of war you mentioned in your message," he said to Damen.

That was the first time he'd admitted to actually having received the message, and by implication to ultimately having ignored it. Damen didn't look impressed by the admission, but he still didn't directly comment on it.

"There is a Veretian influence brewing inside Akielos," Laurent said. "Inside Ios in particular."

"Even if that's true, that's in Ios," Makedon dismissed. "Unless the King specifically calls me to defend it, Ios isn't my problem. Maybe in Vere it's all one big happy country, although I doubt that considering you’re here looking for help with fighting against your own. But here in Akielos we all have our own separate territories."

"How Alpha of you," Laurent couldn't help but remark.

Makedon's smile was almost feral. "You've hit the nail on the head there. This is a country run by Alphas and defended by Alphas. You must have noticed that trend already among the force our Prince has already dragged into Vere."

Laurent had, in fact. It wasn't so different to Vere, in that respect, with the exception of a numbered few ambitious individuals at the top of the court hierarchy in Arles, Laurent's uncle most certainly included.

"So what you need to do is think like an Alpha," Makedon advised. Laurent barely restrained himself from making a displeased face at just the idea of it. "Oh, I know it'll be hard to think in such a straight line for someone with a winding brain like yours, but give it a go. What have you got to offer that an Alpha like me would actually care about?"

"The honour of protecting your future King," Laurent answered, and could immediately tell he had Makedon's attention there. "Akielos may be regional, but you've still sworn allegiance to the throne. Let's play it out. You think Prince Damianos is off on a dangerous fool's errand. You're not going to be able to convince him not to do it; Nikandros has tried his best already, and I'll bet he's far more persuasive than you could be. So if you refuse to go north, your Prince rides into the heart of an enemy kingdom with insufficient numbers to protect him when those forces who are loyal to my uncle converge to strike against the intruders. How do you imagine that will end?"

"Not much better for you than for him, I'd imagine," Makedon said.

"No," Laurent agreed. "That's why I'm here. I've no desire to mince words about it. I'd have preferred never to have to come begging at your doorstep, given the choice. But I need the Akielon army, and the Akielon army needs you. I have the Akielon army already, or part of it. They'll come with me because their Prince will. Do we have you as well? Or will you be responsible for the needless deaths of your countrymen and your Prince?"

Makedon's eyes were narrowed. "You fight better with words than with your sword," he said.

"So I've been told."

Makedon looked to Damen. "Your father wouldn't stand by this," he said. 

"This is the course of action that I believe will be best for the future of Akielos," Damen said. "My father probably wouldn't agree that it's the right course, no. But I act to protect him, and to protect Akielos. The Regent of Vere, who ordered the massacre at Tarasis, can't be allowed to have free reign. The best case scenario is that we fight a bloody battle for Delpha all over again, and risk the Veretians pressing even further south if they gain the advantage. The worst…"

"The worst is internal war," Laurent said. "Akielos is territorial, yes. That will work against you. My uncle seeks to overthrow the current regime of your country, and then take advantage of the ensuing weakness of scattered loyalties. Would you rather fight Veretians in the north, or your fellow Akielons in the south?"

Makedon bared his teeth. "You already know the answer to that. All right. You fight well. You drink well. You think like a leader, even if there's an annoyingly Veretian flavour to your words," he said to Laurent. "To a point I would willingly ride at your side, especially if it's what my Prince asks of me. I might be willing to add my men to the Akielons that I'm told are already camped around the outside of the fortress of Ravenel. My post is on the border, and I'll gladly defend it. I don't mind if that means fighting on the Veretian side of the border against any attack that may come from Vere's north. But," and now he looked at Damen, "I'm not convinced I wouldn't be making a grave mistake in following you if you venture any further into Vere than the border regions."

"Can we really afford to wait for the fight to come to us, and take the chance that our inaction will hurt us in the long run?" Damen asked Makedon. "My father told me once that regrets for missteps are usually fleeting, but failure to act at all will stay with you for a whole lifetime. Will you look back in the years to come and wish you chose differently?"

To Laurent that philosophy sounded rather a lot like King Theomedes's poor justification for doing things like invading Delfeur at the first sniff of opportunity. Clearly it had made an impression on Damen for slightly different reasons, though. Laurent couldn't help but think that Damen wasn't just saying it to convince Makedon, but rather expressing the thoughts that had led him to support Laurent in the first place. There was some irony in the idea that Theomedes had ultimately convinced his son to help the Prince of Vere.

"Would my regrets for this particular mistake be short-lived only because I won't actually be alive years from now if King Theomedes decides my decision was treasonous?" Makedon shot back.

"You think my father will execute you for showing his son loyalty?" Damen asked. "He's not that kind of man, as you well know, or you'd never have pledged to him. And I'm not the kind of man who would let him. If he objects to this after it's all said and done, I'll be the one who falls on my sword over it."

"Figuratively, I hope. Prince Kastor is next in line for the throne."

That was clearly as close as Makedon would come to disparaging a prince of his country, especially to the man's own brother. It was still certainly enough to tell Laurent that Nikandros wasn't the only man in Delfeur who could see, perhaps with the clarity of distance, that Kastor was suspicious and potentially dishonourable. It wouldn't earn Laurent any favours to try to pursue that now, with Makedon still less than wholly charitable towards Laurent's cause and Veretians in general. But it was interesting to know for the future, particularly insofar as it reflected on how far Makedon might be willing to go to ensure the continued livelihood of the current heir to the Akielon throne.

"I don't have any intentions of dying, no," Damen assured Makedon, utterly ignoring the mention of Kastor, as usual. "Prince Laurent is right, though. My odds of coming out of this unscathed are dramatically higher with you and your men by my side."

Makedon sighed. "Then you have us, at least as far as the border lands."

That in itself would be helpful. But Makedon might yet be convinced to go further than that, Laurent thought. It had only taken two days to get him to this point, after all. A few weeks spent at Ravenel would potentially provide countless opportunities to further sway him.

Damen said, "We'll ride for Ravenel ourselves as soon as our injured men are up to travelling. Your physicians informed me they're not quite as badly off as they might have been, given another day or two without treatment. According to them, the worst of the three might be ready to ride in less than a week."

"We have another full sweep of the region to do before I'd be comfortable leaving Delpha for any amount of time," Makedon said. "But I'll leave one of my physicians with you for now, and you have my word that you can expect us not too long after you return to Vere yourselves."

"Thank you," Damen said, clearly as much on Laurent's behalf as his own, for Laurent wasn't about to say it. "I'd also be obliged if you could send out messengers to Straton and Philoctus letting them know of your plans to ride for Ravenel," he added.

"I'm to convince them to jump on board with you, am I?" Makedon asked.

"I'd be happy for you to tell them exactly what you told me: that you're riding to Ravenel. I don't think they'll need much actual convincing to do the same."

"You obviously think that I have a fair bit of influence over them," Makedon guessed.

"I think they respect your strength, as they should, and they know that you have the most soldiers of anyone in the north," Damen said. "Those things alone would be enough to make them reconsider their positions."

"I can spare riders to carry messages to them," Makedon agreed, "but I make no promises about their response. Straton in particular is about as pig-headed as anyone I've ever met." Makedon grinned. "Me included."

It seemed Makedon's pig-headedness wasn't quite as bad as Laurent had been led to expect, though. 

Even Akielons who seemed set in their ways could change their minds, Laurent thought.

"It's only a qualified yes," Damen reminded Laurent once they'd ridden out of Makedon's camp. "He already considers the border his territory. I doubt it'll be as easy to convince him to march away from the border towards Arles."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. "And that's not even the biggest potential problem with inviting Makedon to Ravenel."

Tensions would doubtless be high. Maybe too high. Laurent was already half expecting to arrive back into Ravenel to find the Veretians and Akielons at each other's throats as it was. Once they doubled or tripled the number of Akielons, with some of the newcomers being the most obstinate of the lot, the situation could grow a lot worse, and quickly. There was the possibility that it could cause more problems than it solved.

Or, alternatively, it could be the thing that turned the tide and allowed Laurent to finally win the fight against his uncle.

Laurent liked to account for all possibilities, when given the choice. He wasn't really much one for gambling unless he could stack the cards. 

Laurent glanced across at Damen, watching as he leaned into his horse's trot.

Sometimes, though, it might just be worth it to take a chance.


	17. Chapter 17

Once Makedon's camp moved north-west (towards Marlas, Laurent couldn't help but be aware) to continue their patrol, it took six days for the physician to clear Rochert for travel. That time was spent mostly in a kind of enforced idleness, even for those among Laurent's men who didn't need the extra rest in order to heal. 

There was little for Laurent in particular to do but get trapped in loops of mostly-useless internal conjecture about everything from whether Makedon or one of the bannermen Makedon had sent messages that would now alert King Theomedes to the details of his son's plans, to what might be happening back at Ravenel in Laurent's longer-than-planned absence, to what Damen thought he was doing by continuing to loiter just outside Laurent's tent every night even now that Makedon's men were gone and the threat of an opportunistic attack on Laurent had been minimised. Laurent couldn't seem to process his racing thoughts with any ease while his soldiers were constantly underfoot. Including the physician, they were just ten men camped alone in an open field, but as far as Laurent was concerned, it felt akin to a bursting crowd of hundreds locked inside a tiny stone room. 

Even if it meant separating himself in potentially still hostile territory, Laurent eventually had to give in to the pressing need to get some distance. He needed to be able to _think_ , the way he could never quite manage when he was constantly surrounded by other people. 

The first time Laurent prepared to ride out for a few hours on his own, Damen appeared beside him silently with his own horse's reins in hand. His expression challenged Laurent to say something about it. Laurent didn't bother. At least two ready swords would be better than one if trouble did come. 

For that whole ride, Damen gave Laurent as much physical distance as Damen was apparently comfortable with as soon as it became clear to him that Laurent was deep in thought and intended to stay that way. Laurent found that, surprisingly, he was able to think fairly clearly even with Damen's silent presence being a constant in his peripheral vision. Though Laurent couldn't deny that the actual topic of his deliberations was swayed somewhat by that presence.

Damen didn't ask what was on Laurent's mind. That was just as well, because Laurent had no intention of telling him. He knew Damen must have been wondering, though, and was perhaps doing some thinking of his own judging by his intense gaze whenever they frequently made eye contact.

They rode out twice more after that, not necessarily because Laurent had anything in particular that he needed to think about after that first meandering trip, but more because, upon their return that first time, Laurent had immediately missed how freely he had been able breathe when he'd been away from the camp, alone except for Damen. 

During the third ride, Laurent was actually in the mood to fill the silence with more than just his own thoughts. Laurent wouldn't have imagined it would be possible days ago, when he was glaring at Damen with accusations firing from his mouth, but their conversations apparently didn't always have to be filled with strategy or tension or misplaced flirtation. 

When Damen talked about his more youthful days spent exploring the palace in Ios, Laurent didn't automatically use the details to plan out how he might navigate a strike force through the winding hallways Damen described, even though he perhaps should have. Rather, what Laurent pictured in exacting detail was an image of how Damen described himself as a boy; the way he'd carelessly leaned his upper body out of his bedroom window so that he was half suspended over a plunging drop, letting the sea-cooled wind that was diverted upwards as it encountered the solid cliffs below rush past him, making it feel as though he were flying. The grin he'd have worn then would have been nearly identical to the one he gave Laurent sometimes when he'd been surprised into sudden and uncomplicated delight.

Laurent would never have been that reckless as a boy. But a small part of him had to admit now that he would like to have been able to occasionally give in that way to the rush and the danger of sensation.

Laurent didn't tell Damen stories about his own childhood in return, though, because every good memory he could think of was centred around Auguste.

When Laurent and Damen happened upon two local children, both no older than ten, playing along the bank of a stream, Laurent immediately saw their fearful expressions and dismounted to make himself appear less threatening. 

"It's okay. I'm a friend," he assured them in Veretian as he approached slowly, careful not to spook them. He could see them react to the unexpectedness of someone dressed as Laurent was and visibly carrying a sword at his side speaking their own language effortlessly.

" _He's_ a soldier," the girl insisted mistrustfully as she looked at Damen. 

There was no mistaking Damen for being natively Veretian, even if he almost managed to sound that way when he spoke the language. And the size of him was intimidating even to Laurent, sometimes, let alone to these defenceless children.

"He's a protector," Laurent corrected. "Don't let the look of him fool you. He's just a gigantic puppy. I bet he'd even let you pet him."

The awestruck children looked at Damen again, as if contemplating the bravery that would be involved in actually trying that.

Thankfully, Damen's smile just then made Laurent's outrageous claim seem a lot more believable. 

"What were you doing before you saw us?" Laurent asked the boy. "That's a lot of mud on your knees. Were you digging out a stream of your own?"

"We were looking for worms. Our father's a fisherman. I wanted to help out. And look, I've got seven so far," the boy said proudly.

Laurent smiled. "I'm sure you're a great help to him. You know, I'm told that I ran off on my own to dig up worms once, and my father had no idea where I went for hours. Do your parents know you're out here?"

"Yes," the boy said, in a drawn-out way that really meant 'no'. He and Damen had something in common after all: they were both poor liars.

"Well then. You've got seven whole worms already," Laurent said. "That's quite a haul. It might be time to head home so you can give them to your father, don't you think?"

The children made unhappy sounds at having their fun spoiled by an adult, but Laurent's brief and gentle push to each of their backs had them obediently scampering off, presumably in the direction of home. The girl half turned and waved as she skipped away.

When Laurent looked away from their retreating backs and caught Damen's gaze, the look on his face was something Laurent had never seen before.

"You were good with them," was all Damen said, his expression soft. 

"It helps that I for one don't look like a monster from their storybooks," Laurent said.

"Apparently I'm really a gigantic puppy, though," Damen repeated, amused. "You know, I'd happily let _you_ pet me."

"Oh go away," Laurent griped.

"Sorry, I can't," Damen said, not sounding sorry. "Orlant and Huet had some fairly specific threats for if I let any harm come to you out here. I'm pretty sure they'd try to carry them out if I just left you alone. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

Yes, Laurent supposed, it seemed he was.

The following day they finally packed up and set off, to Laurent's and the men's great relief. Damen also seemed to be in better spirits than he'd been on the way into Delfeur. He still looked wary, though not without cause. For the same reason, Laurent's men stayed dressed in Akielon garb for now, just in case soldiers who weren't loyal to Makedon rode through. But that continued cautiousness didn't stop Damen from being a lot more talkative than on the journey more than a week ago, even if he still only really talked to Laurent.

Laurent found that he didn't really mind that.

The one possible exception to the overall good mood was Rochert. He was apparently healed enough not to be at too much risk of tearing himself back open on the ride. However, he clearly still wasn't having a good time of it, even if he didn't openly complain. Laurent didn't push the men to ride as hard as he might otherwise have mainly in deference to the recently injured.

As they camped out for the last night before they would cross the border and arrive back in Ravenel, Laurent looked across to the other side of the fire and saw Orlant clap Rochert on the back.

"You still look half at death's door," Orlant said more cheerfully than those words deserved. "I've not seen you this bad off since you were kicking the drink."

Rochert, who was pale and tired looking from the last two days' ride, nodded. "I feel as bad as that. I'm about ready to collapse."

"Bet you couldn't even find any energy if an Omega in heat strolled right into the camp," Orlant joked.

Laurent saw Damen's eyes narrow and then glance Laurent's way, having obviously overheard that last part of the conversation. 

Rochert groaned. "Not unless he was just willing to let me lie back while he did all the work. Although, I don't know if Omegas even do that."

"Ha, from what I've seen they definitely do when they need to," Orlant replied. "You should have seen this one time when the son of a Lord who was visiting Arles got caught out on a ride when his heat struck. He was already so deep into it by the time he managed to get his horse back to the stables that when he rolled off the animal he practically landed on top of Jord. There was me practically slipping in a puddle of my own drool over this pretty little thing, even though I was about twenty feet away. Meanwhile, Jord was just standing there, not moving a muscle, while this boy plastered himself all over Jord's body, begging for a knot, and practically started climbing Jord like a pole. That Omega would have happily done all the work, and no mistake. But of course bloody Jord just said, calm as you like: 'look, there's a Beta who can escort you back to your rooms safely.' And once the kid was taken out of there, Jord got on his horse, easy as anything, and didn't even look like he was having a hard time of it, if you catch my drift. I bet he couldn't get it up for an Omega any more than you could right now, Rochert."

"That might be part of why the Prince made him Captain, even though he's as lowborn as the rest of us," Huet supposed. "Maybe the Prince wanted someone who wouldn't be able to try it on with him, Alpha or not."

"Doubt he'd let that be enough to influence him either way," Orlant said. "Have you _seen_ the prince-killer? No doubt that one could fuck like a stallion, at least with someone who wouldn't freeze it off in seconds. And our Prince spends all his damn time with him all the same. Clearly he's not scared of being around a hard cock, even if he won't actually do anything with it."

"Like a stallion," Damen repeated quietly moments later as he sidled up to Laurent, having obviously been listening in as well. He looked some mixture of amused and offended. "Why do you Veretians all keep comparing me to animals?"

"I'm just glad to know that they're equally willing to speculate on the bed habits and body parts of princes other than me," Laurent admitted. 

"Do you let them talk about you like that all the time?" Damen asked, sounding like he found that much less funny.

"I wouldn't say 'let'," said Laurent. "More like 'don't bother wasting my time'. Besides, if they're going to say it anyway, I'd rather know _what_ they're saying. I need to be aware if the gossip starts going in a direction that could be harmful to my command."

Like, for example, if the men started wondering whether Laurent was letting Damen fuck _him_ like a stallion. 

Damen didn't seem convinced by that logic, but he also didn't try to maul any of the other Alphas for talking that way about Laurent, as Laurent had half feared he might when they'd first set out from Ravenel, so Laurent would settle for that.

Finally arriving back at Ravenel felt like a strange reality check. The Akielon and Veretian soldiers weren't as badly at odds with each other as Laurent had expected, given the extended nature of Laurent's and Damen's absence. Laurent thought he might have Nikandros to thank for that. The man in question greeted them with an unimpressed look directed at Damen, who gave him a sheepish smile in return.

"It's a bit late to start pretending that you're sorry," Nikandros said, and so Damen didn't even bother trying to.

The tensions Laurent had expected did still come, though, when Makedon's company arrived outside Ravenel just two days after Laurent's return. It wasn't unexpected that Makedon's arrival should be the herald of substantial problems, but the immediacy of it was still worrying, to say the least. And if anything, the scale of it was made worse as smaller groups of Akielon soldiers filtered in soon after; the other outstanding bannermen Damen had called upon had obviously followed Makedon's lead, just as both Damen and Nikandros had predicted they likely would.

Jord promptly delivered unwelcome news from the barracks that a commotion just outside Ravenel's walls had drawn Laurent's men through the gates. The subsequent meeting of the two factions had ended in a massive fist fight. Thankfully no real weapons had come into play. If just one soldier on either side died in such a clash, that would be the end of it. Chaos would erupt, and with this many men in a furore, even Damen and Laurent together probably wouldn't be able to stop it from escalating too far to ever get back to a place where the two sides could coordinate effectively.

Laurent knew that he had to keep them all occupied with something other than picking fights, and preferably find a way to actually change the atmosphere between the two armies. Back when they'd been in Delfeur, it had been Makedon who had suggested a tournament would be a good way of settling the rivalry. He'd been halfway to intoxicated at the time, true, but it wasn't a bad idea nonetheless, and Laurent had already proven that he wasn't above accepting suggestions, even from Akielons. Perhaps Akielons were actually more sensible when they were drunk, Laurent considered. Laurent was dying to test that out with Damen in particular. 

"When Makedon suggested that," Damen said after Laurent informed him of the tournament he was organising for the following day, "he meant for the two of us to fight each other."

"And why shouldn't we?" Laurent said equanimously. "You're the one who claims you see me as your equal. It would help to show the men that by picking up a sword against me in the ring."

"Is this your idea of giving me that warning I asked for?" Damen questioned warily. "I suppose I'll have a sword in my hand as I also asked for, won't I?"

"Please. I'd be a fool to try to kill you in the middle of a stadium where your men now outnumber mine more than three times over," Laurent said. "You know I'm not a fool."

"This will still end badly," Damen said, "no matter which way it plays out."

"It won't," Laurent said, certain.

Damen sighed. "You have some kind of plan, don't you? Am I going to have to dress up in someone else's clothes?" 

"Not this time," Laurent said. "And don't worry, I'll take care of the finer details, as usual."

"That really doesn't stop me from worrying," Damen pointed out.

In a different type of tournament, with a different ambiance among the spectators, a sword fight between rival princes would have been the last event of the day, the pinnacle of the entire event. As things currently stood, though, Laurent would rather take the opportunity to potentially change the tone of the whole thing right from the start. He hoped to prompt the competition that flowed after to evolve into something more good-natured than borderline deadly, or otherwise this whole day might be wasted.

So Laurent and Damen were the first to step into the ring, to the raucously supportive cheers of all the men present. 

Their armour was light, to allow for better movement. Neither of them really intended to land any serious strike on the other anyway. The watching soldiers wouldn't have been placated by anything less than the use of real swords, though, and even at this level of skill there was always the chance of an accident of timing. In addition to the swords, Damen was granted the right as visiting royalty to determine what weapons and tools would be allowable for this particular match. Notably, he chose to forego shields, even though Laurent was fairly certain a shield was part of Damen's usual preferred fighting apparel. The use of such heavy equipment would have undoubtedly hindered Laurent more than helped him, though. 

Laurent nodded slightly at Damen in acknowledgement, though only because he could tell that the choice wasn't made out of some Alpha concern for giving the weak Omega an advantage. Damen would have fought many public duels of this kind, even if the stakes and purpose of this one were slightly different. He surely knew how to play to the crowd when he needed to. And he might not have known Laurent's exact plan, but he would at least have guessed that showcasing the range of Laurent's fighting skill was an important part of the agenda.

They faced each other, swords raised, and Laurent gestured for Damen to make the first move.

This was their first rematch, so to speak, since Laurent had tried and failed to kill Damen. Part of Laurent wanted to win this, badly, the way he hadn't been able to then, despite knowing what he actually needed to do here. But Damen was better than him. If Laurent hadn't already been aware of it from having watched him fight from a distance, it would have become quickly obvious from the first minute of this fight. Yes, Laurent could hold his own. If he could keep Damen going for some interminable period of time, he might even have a chance of outlasting him, with Damen's greater mass working against his endurance. But there was little doubt in Laurent's mind that he would never be able to stave Damen off for long enough for that to become enough of a factor to win Laurent the fight. Damen would have overpowered him long before then.

No, there were only two ways Laurent might actually win against Damen. The first would be to play dirty. Laurent was capable of tactics that probably wouldn't even occur to Damen, with his always-surprising (to Laurent, at least) focus on the honour of the fight. Besides, Damen had handed him a battery of tools to use against him, not least the fact that Laurent knew that Damen didn't have even the slightest desire to harm Laurent. But this was a performance for the commanders and soldiers more than it was a real fight. Winning would do Laurent little good now if bringing that about resulted in the perception that Laurent had gone beyond the honourable bounds of the duel; that would be met with exactly the type of distrust and hostility he was actively trying to dispel. 

The second method of defeating Damen, then, would be if Damen somehow had a moment of weakness, or stumbled, the way Auguste once had. But this wasn't going to be a replay of Damen's fight against Auguste. Damen certainly wasn't tired at the outset, as Auguste had been. Laurent had, in fact, rarely seen him as animated and focused as he looked with a sword in his hand and Laurent dancing over the sands across from him. Damen wasn't likely to make any stupid mistakes like that today. Even if he did, Laurent was no longer sure he could actually take proper advantage of that kind a lapse against Damen. As poetic as the idea of Damen falling to the same kind of error as Auguste might have been in theory, something about the thought of it actually happening seemed wrong. 

That was all right, Laurent reminded himself. Laurent could beat Damen in a different way, at some future date, when Laurent's goal was far different than it was now.

The first clashes of Laurent's and Damen's swords were testing, even playful. Damen's thrusts had undeniable finesse, but they lacked the power of purpose. Damen was grinning through it as Laurent knocked his sword aside again and again. Someone in the stands called out something about foreplay, which made most of the spectators erupt in laughter, but made Laurent even more determined to come out of this with some greater amount of respect than how he'd entered.

"Are we fighting or dancing here?" Laurent goaded as Damen yet again advanced only to fall back without pressing his momentum.

"Both," admitted Damen. "Always both."

Laurent had expected that Damen would quickly start taking it seriously, and that in doing so he would simply unleash his superior strength on Laurent in a barrage of blows. However, either Damen really did seem to realise that this was a show, or he was just enjoying it too much. Either way, there seemed to be no need to drive it too quickly to its end. That suited Laurent, as there was significant advantage to be gained from letting the soldiers see that Laurent could continue to match Damen blow for blow over the length of a decent fight. 

Laurent once even got inside Damen's guard and made him reel back quickly to avoid the edge of Laurent's blade. Laurent could actually hear the shift in the cheers echoing all around them at that point, from a call of desire for bloodshed and domination to an almost musical accompaniment befitting great entertainment.

Damen got though Laurent's defences shortly after that, as if to show that he could answer kind with kind. He chose to punch Laurent with the fist closed around his sword, though Laurent was all too aware that he could have managed at least a surface wound if he'd chosen a slicing motion instead, but the Akielons still yelled happily enough as the force of the strike momentarily stole Laurent's balance. Laurent tumbled backwards, but he managed to roll away to give himself a moment to recover and then sprang quickly to his feet. Damen's grin was briefly back. Laurent took it as a taunt.

Even as the blows started to fall harder, as anticipated, Damen did something that Laurent certainly hadn't expected. His sword twisted just slightly with every force-filled stroke, making the jarring of Laurent's wrists as he blocked them doubly painful. Every parry significantly weakened Laurent's wrists, and thus worked towards neutralising their quickness. Damen had obviously noted while watching Laurent fight with others that the fine manipulations that flowed from his wrists were Laurent's best physical asset in a fight other than his footwork. 

Damen did have the mind of a tactician, Laurent reminded himself, at least when it came to battle rather than personal or political matters. Laurent shouldn't underrate him in this arena any more than Damen should ever let himself underestimate Laurent in any way.

Damen's surprise tactic actually worked for Laurent's purposes, though, in the end. Laurent spotted a quickly-passing opportunity that Damen would never have expected him to grab, and so likely wouldn't move to block. After all, Laurent had been parrying two-handed for some time now, and Damen would have been able to see clear evidence that Laurent's right wrist had lost the strength required to pull off the move successfully. Laurent nonetheless went for it, locking their swords close to the hilts and twisting his own sword hand viciously. Laurent's wrist protested the force and motion, and the resulting stabbing pain made his fingers spasm. Laurent's sword fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground.

But so did Damen's.

They looked at each other for a long moment without speaking or moving. Damen looked like he almost wanted to smile, but didn't dare.

Of course, in a real fight Laurent's calculated move would have been suicidal, for now Damen would have taken this opportunity to bodily rush at him. Laurent wouldn't have been able to stand up to the onslaught of Damen's size and strength without a weapon, as he'd already learned. This was a competitive duel, though, and the rules favoured Laurent in that they called an end to the fight upon the decisive loss of a weapon. With both fighters simultaneously disarmed, this time Makedon wouldn't have to resort to prevarications; it actually was a draw.

The soldiers whooped and called out, each of them to a man looking like they'd just witnessed something novel, just as Laurent had wanted.

"You let go of the sword on purpose, didn't you?" Damen accused quietly once they were back in the royal seats in the stands and the second bout of the day had commenced in the ring.

"I didn't," Laurent said honestly. "But I did purposely choose that particular move, knowing that I'd lose my grip even as you did, because that suited my design."

"If it was a draw you intended, it would have worked far easier if you'd let me in on the plan," Damen chastised him.

Laurent scoffed, "You're too obvious for that. Every man in the stands would have easily concluded that it was a farce if you'd been fighting with some ulterior purpose other than just their entertainment in mind. As it is, the outcome wasn't actually a farce at all. Calculated, yes, but real."

"So now everyone has seen unequivocal evidence that we're equals," Damen said. 

"And everyone has seen that Vere and Akielos can fight together on friendly terms without either kingdom being put to shame at the end of it," Laurent said. "At least that's the hope."

"The pinpoint accuracy of your schemes makes me uneasy sometimes," Damen admitted.

"If you're scared that I could think circles around you, you're not wrong," Laurent said.

"And you accused _me_ of being conceited." 

Laurent just shrugged.

Throughout the rest of the matches, from sword play to archery and onwards, Laurent let himself lean back in his seat and enjoy the swelling of the crowd's noise combined with Damen's commentary about those Akielon competitors whom he recognised.

Any possibility of continuing that carefree relaxation was wiped away, though, when a young three-time victor challenged his Prince to a wrestling match.

Damen stood up and stripped right there like it was nothing. Laurent's mouth formed an 'o' against his will. For the first time he thought he really understood Damen's reaction the morning Laurent had first put on a chiton. Even worse, once Damen reached the ring, he cupped oil in his hands and proceeded to work it onto the skin of his naked body, giving his flexing muscles a sheen that lent them even greater definition, as if they needed it. The effect sent Laurent's mind spiraling into places that he'd rather it had never visited.

For once, Laurent actually would have quite liked to just blame some mindless instinctual Omega response to the sight of two naked Alphas pressing against each other almost animalistically for the dryness of his mouth and the way his own muscles strained in his seat, as if his whole body were pressing towards the display. It was difficult to claim that was all it was, though, when Laurent's eyes barely strayed to the second Alpha, except when their bodies were turned in a way that impeded Laurent's view. Otherwise, Laurent's focus was only directed at Damen.

His next heat was going to be hell, Laurent realised suddenly. For now he wouldn't be just battling the sense impressions of Damen's body held up against Laurent's own, but also this new detailed knowledge of how every inch of Damen's body appeared as it writhed and thrust. 

Laurent wasn't sure how he was going to be able to stop thinking about it even outside of heat, actually, if the way his whole attention was captured now was any indication. 

It still could have been worse, Laurent decided. Laurent could be getting a view of _exactly_ what he'd be missing most during heat; Damen could be as hard as Laurent currently was. Laurent crossed his legs and tried to will away his reaction before Damen could return, for the fight seemed to be heading rapidly towards its close. The younger Alpha was losing ground, and Damen finally managed to get a firm grip on him despite the oils. 

There was some Omega part of Laurent – the same one that had shown itself when Damen had knocked Enguerran to the ground – that responded to Damen's victory just as much as to the sight of his twisting body. Laurent fought for control over himself. 

When Damen returned to his seat and reached for his clothing, he gave Laurent a quizzical look. Laurent knew he undoubtedly looked even redder than Damen, who had the slight flush of exertion showing even on his dark skin. Unlike Damen, though, Laurent didn't have the ready excuse of having just engaged in several long minutes of hard exercise.

"What's wrong?" Damen asked, sounding guilelessly concerned.

Laurent just shook his head and lied, "Nothing."

Damen looked unconvinced. But then that expression was replaced as his nostrils flared slightly and a pleased smile blossomed across his face. Obviously willing away the visible reaction hadn't been nearly enough, Laurent realised, when other evidence still clung to him.

"Don't even say a word," Laurent warned, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Damen's smile didn't falter at all for the whole rest of the afternoon.


	18. Chapter 18

Laurent knew that the direct aftermath of the tournament would be as imperative as the event itself in changing the way the Akielon and Veretian soldiers interacted over the following days and weeks. So to commemorate the successful conclusion of the competitions, a massive feast was to be held at the edge of the sprawling Akielon camp. As Laurent was quick to tactfully assure the bannermen of Delfeur, the location was less because Akielos wasn't welcome in the halls of Ravenel, and more because there were simply far too many men to actually fit inside. The festivities of the night couldn't be reserved just for the higher ranked men, after all, when it was the soldiers themselves, on both sides, who most needed to have their attitudes adjusted.

If they could actually manage to get these men to at least fight in the same vicinity without turning their attacks on each other instead of their mutual enemies, then Laurent and Damen would command a combined force that could likely take on Uncle's best defences.

This really might work, Laurent thought, and almost couldn't keep his satisfaction hidden throughout the early hours of the evening.

Most of the men were already getting deep into their cups within minutes of the festivities commencing. When Akielons started challenging Veretians and vice versa, it was not to brawls seeking blood, but to cards for coin, or in several cases to arm-wresting with bragging rights at stake. Laurent even actually saw one of his men stripping right down out of his usual concealing clothing to be taught how to properly wrestle in the Akielon style, with a gathering crowd calling out good-natured obscenities and casting bets on the outcome. In other circumstances Laurent would have protested one of his own engaging in such a barbaric pastime, but not today. 

Though it was somehow disquieting that the show they provided didn't seem to even slightly raise Laurent's pulse, despite both of the thrashing naked men being well-built Alphas. Compared to the earlier wrestling match, this one hardly registered to Laurent at all.

When Nikandros and Damen finally appeared nearly an hour into the proceedings, the sight of Damen, even fully clothed (or at least the Akielon equivalent), had more of an impact on Laurent than those naked soldiers did.

Makedon raised his cup to his approaching Kyros and Prince in a salute. "Prince Laurent has sufficiently proven his claim that the spoils of his captured fortress now belong to Akielos. Come drink. The wine of Ravenel is flavoursome and free-flowing."

Nikandros watched Makedon clap Laurent on the shoulder in a friendly manner and sighed. "Oh hell. Not you too."

Unlike the more hastily thrown together feast they'd been at in Makedon's camp in Akielos, this time there was a seat specifically laid out for Damen right beside Laurent at the head of the table, in a display of equality in rank. As Damen took his seat, he looked over the already empty cups on the table in front of everyone except Laurent and narrowed his eyes. "It occurs to me that this would be a good way to poison my entire army," he said quietly to Laurent.

It certainly would have been, considering that Laurent himself wasn't drinking this time. If only he didn't still need the Akielon army, he thought wistfully. And if only his own men weren't downing the wine at the same rate as the Akielons, for that matter.

"Ha!" Makedon responded, apparently having sharper ears than Damen realised. "I thought of that already. Not that I think that Prince Laurent himself would do that," he added, in a way that suggested he was pretty sure that Laurent actually _would_ poison them all happily, but only if it suited him, which it clearly didn't at present. "But you never know who else has handled the drink on its way here, do you? Prince Laurent was kind enough to offer for several of his servants to test each bottle as it's opened, just in case. Anything that's not even deadly enough to make those lightweight Veretians keel over doesn't worry me."

Those servants that Laurent had performing that particular role, having had to take a sip from each of countless bottles, _were_ in fact on the verge of keeling over by now, though it was from drunkenness rather than imminent death. Still, Laurent purposely chose not to mention that.

"So all you had to do to get my army properly on your side and avoid mass bloodshed was throw a tournament and supply the alcohol," Damen said.

"It's efficient, don't you think? If expensive," Laurent added, looking out over the array of food. "I think we've more than half depleted Ravenel's existing stores at this stage, and continuing to feed this many men will speed up the process significantly. Ravenel was never meant to be home to a garrison this large. And we can't expect further supplies to flow from inside Vere itself. If Uncle hasn't already managed to cut off those routes, I'll be very surprised. I'm considering sending a messenger to Prince Torveld of Patras to hopefully open trade from that direction if we intend to stay here much longer. He seemed like he would be open to being at least that helpful."

"Or we could just move on," Damen said tightly, clearly unimpressed at the mention of Laurent having anything further to do with Torveld. 

"We can't just entirely pick up and leave Ravenel," Laurent said. 

"Right. You want to hold down the whole border," Damen said. He nodded at the soundness of the tactic. "It's my understanding that Acquitart is already yours. Fortaine is the next target?"

Laurent replied, "Yes. And even putting potential supplies shortages aside, we'll have to attempt to take it soon. I can't imagine that my uncle won't make some kind of decisive move once news reaches his ears about how much the forces camped outside Ravenel have suddenly swelled."

It wouldn't be enough anymore for Uncle to rely on just targeting Laurent himself directly. After all, Laurent bearing a bastard if someone compromised him during heat at Uncle's behest might lose Laurent the respect of at least some of his own army and much of Vere's general populace, but it was unlikely to much concern the Akielons, so Laurent would now potentially still have numbers to attack Uncle even if he'd then have significant trouble being accepted as King once Uncle was defeated. Uncle couldn't be sure how much the Akielons who'd streamed across the border were working toward their own agenda, either; even Laurent's death might not be sufficient to stop them moving against the Regent now that they were inside Vere and had access to the most solid of the border fortresses. 

So if Uncle wanted to win at this stage, it would surely have to be army against army, not attacks on individual men. Laurent had in part persuaded Damen to his side in the beginning by pitching that he could only avoid war by ensuring Laurent lived. But although it would be on Veretian soil instead of inside Akielos, war now seemed inevitable all the same. Taking Fortaine would be the next step in ensuring the success of that war.

"It won't be as easy as Ravenel," Laurent warned. "Councillor Guion, who you would know as Vere's Ambassador to Akielos, is more of a coward than Lord Touars. Knowing that Ravenel has already fallen, he'll have no intention of ordering his men to march out to meet us. The castle will be thoroughly in lock down."

"So it won't be enough to play dress up this time?" Damen asked, amused.

Laurent shrugged. "I suppose that would depend who was dressing up, and as what."

"I would pay to see you to convince Makedon to try to sneak into Fortaine wearing a Veretian courtier's gown," Damen laughed.

Laurent made a face as he glanced over at Makedon, who was by this stage somewhat obliviously chugging down wine as if it were as disgusting to the taste as griva, not something supposedly meant to be savoured. "I think I would pay _not_ to see that, actually," Laurent said.

Laurent was distracted from that disturbing mental picture by the arrival of a procession of five female slaves, who looked as though they must have been Nikandros's best, brought from Marlas for the exact purpose of gifting their service to Nikandros's Prince. They were brought before the dais and presented to Damen for his selection. Nikandros probably hoped Damen would pick all five at once and exhaust himself enough that he wouldn't even have the energy to look at Laurent that way anymore. 

Damen gave the slaves a long, pensive look, and then declined their services entirely. Laurent watched as Nikandros, a few seats down, pursed his lips slightly and spoke quietly to his slave handler. Not even a minute later, a young male slave who had skin only a few shades darker than Laurent's and honey-toned curls on his head was presented as an alternative. He wasn't an Omega, but that would have only been because even Akielons wouldn't be stupid enough to bring Omegas into a camp filled with Alphas, with no secure place for them to retreat if their heat came on unexpectedly; the scent of it dispersed throughout the lines of tents would probably cause a riot, the way Laurent might have done if Damen hadn't let him go when he did when Laurent had been his prisoner. In every other way, though, the young man's intended physical resemblance to Laurent was clear. Laurent could definitely see Nikandros's desperation coming to the fore.

So could Damen, apparently. He wryly thanked the slave for his offer of service and turned him down as well.

Laurent's lips twitched. 

Feeling suddenly magnanimous, Laurent directed his own servant to attend to Damen throughout the rest of the night to make up for the lack of a slave. Laurent wasn't drinking tonight anyway, and it wasn't as though he and Damen weren't sitting side by side, so it would be easily manageable.

Nikandros still claimed that Laurent's servant was looking harried by the increased workload of having to look after two princes simultaneously. Nikandros had another small contingent of slaves sent over under the guise of resolving that problem. This time they were all male. It took Laurent a moment to realise they were not there for Damen's perusal at all, but for Laurent's, as if getting _Laurent_ to divert his attention was any part of the problem here. The blond from earlier was absent from the line-up, possibly because Nikandros was too diplomatic to offer one prince a slave who had just been declined by another, but just as likely because Nikandros was trying to cater to Laurent's perceived preferences.

If Laurent did have a type, though, it certainly wouldn't be dark-skinned muscular Akielons, whatever Nikandros seemed to think.

Laurent might have been offended by the offer of slaves if he thought there was any way Nikandros would actually have been aware of Laurent's opinions about their use. He definitely would have been affronted if any of the men sent to him had been Alphas. As Kyros of Delfeur, Nikandros certainly was aware enough of Veretian customs to be aware of the insult that would be inherent in that. Honestly, though, Laurent had difficulty imagining a strength-based culture like Akielos even trying to make Alphas into submissive slaves in the first place. Certainly all of these slaves were Betas.

So Laurent wasn't precisely insulted, but he also wasn't quite as entertained by Nikandros's gall as he would have been if the array of men in front of him had any choice of whether to be there. Had they been servants or pets, not slaves, Laurent might actually have chosen one from their number to follow him around all night and attend to him just to annoy Damen, who was now glaring darkly at Nikandros. He still wouldn't have used them as intended, of course, but that wouldn't have stopped him from choosing them for his own purposes.

Actually, that didn't have to stop him from doing such a thing now either.

Laurent thanked the slaves in Akielon for their offer and said that he would appreciate their service for the night.

Beside him, Damen jerked slightly in shock.

"All of them?" the slave handler asked, looking surprised but pleased.

"Yes. Though I have just one task for each of them," Laurent announced. He addressed the slaves directly. "Return to wherever you sleep when you're not needed, and rest comfortably there for the whole night. If anyone seeks your service during that time, tell them to address their request to the Prince of Vere. By doing that, you would satisfy me greatly."

The slaves seemed uncertain about this odd order, and the slave handler hesitated. But once Damen addressed the slave handler, and by extension to Nikandros, saying, "I believe Prince Laurent has made himself clear," the request was quickly granted.

It was only one night without being used, but it was all Laurent currently had the power to give them.

"Not your most diplomatic move," Damen said more quietly as the slaves were led away.

"Nikandros seemed to desperately want at least one of us to utilise the services of his slaves for the night. I've done so, if not quite how he expected. My diplomacy is well intact, thank you," Laurent replied.

Damen said, "You know, in Akielos it's believed that all Veretians think as circuitously as you do. Now that I'm here, I'm glad to find that you're actually fairly singular in that respect. If every Veretian here was like you, the rest of us would be in a great deal of trouble."

Damen clearly was already in trouble, and if he didn't recognise it, he was more of a fool than Laurent thought.

When the next course of food arrived, it was a very particular array of Laurent's favourite sweetmeats. Laurent smiled.

"Someone among my Prince's Guard from Arles must have talked to the kitchens," Laurent commented, pleasantly surprised. "Jord, I expect. He's the type to think of making sure I have at least one thing I actually like, today of all days."

Laurent's eyes found a nearby group of his men, which included Jord. They saw him looking and took the opportunity to make a raucous toast in honour of Laurent's birth, and to there being only one more year until Laurent wore the crown.

"It's your birthday?" Damen asked, watching as the men drank to Laurent's health, as if they needed any real excuse to drink at this stage.

"It is," Laurent acknowledged. "The occupants of Ravenel probably would have insisted on some kind of a feast tonight even without the tournament, actually. My claim to the throne may currently be under something of a dark cloud, but the people still won't let the birthday of their future monarch pass without celebration, at least not this far from the capital, where my uncle can't bear down on them with his wrath for spitting in the face of his claim of treason. Their support would be humbling, if it didn't have more to do with wanting an excuse for a party than anything directly to do with me."

"Considering it's your birthday, you sound remarkably reluctant to join in the festivities," Damen commented.

Laurent grimaced. "I've not had a birthday worth celebrating since the one when I turned thirteen." Before Marlas. Before Laurent was left alone.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. When Laurent had turned fifteen he'd actually had his own private celebration, because it had been an important milestone; he'd never known Uncle to pay attention to any boy that old. Fifteen had been the year that most of the court in Arles had started recognising that Laurent's looks had grown into something to be admired, even as Uncle had started regarding him as if he were fruit that had been sadly allowed to become overripe. 

Damen looked at him intensely. "You don't have to," he began, more hesitantly than Laurent was used to hearing him. "But if you wanted to, I'd like to hear about your thirteenth birthday."

The background sounds of laughter and cheering ringing out from all directions seemed out of place just then. Damen looked like Laurent was surely about to bite his head off, and Laurent contemplated whether he should do that or not. 

He'd refused to share stories about his childhood at Arles in answer to Damen's own youthful tales a week earlier, when they'd been riding alone over the open ground of Delfeur. But perhaps it was the result of a day spent sharing a little bit too much camaraderie, or it was just that part of Laurent really did miss caring about his birthday the way he once had; either way, he found himself doing as Damen asked, the words flowing more easily than he'd thought they would, given everything.

"My father would have forgotten my birthday altogether that year, and probably every year, if there wasn't a celebration planned," Laurent eventually began. "I was only the spare heir, but as second in line to the throne I was still important enough to merit that much. After all," Laurent said wryly, "there was still the remote chance that one day I might be King. My mother wished me a happy birthday and ruffled my hair early in the morning, but then she went off and made herself busy directing the preparations for the palace celebrations. Those small bursts of affection followed by hours or days on end of her attention being elsewhere were just how she was. 

"I wasn't really looking forward to the banquet. I didn't care about feasts, and wasn't all that fussed about the performances either. But the festivities, even if they were in my name, weren't really for me, so it didn't much matter to anyone if they weren't designed for my enjoyment."

It was much the same this night, Laurent thought. Given a choice of ways to spend his ideal birthday, the tournament earlier wouldn't have been his first pick, but at least it had had its moments. Now, though, sitting atop a hastily-erected raised dais with a group of rival commanders, surrounded on all sides by rowdy soldiers in varying states of intoxication, this might have been even worse than what Laurent had had to suffer through during years of previous birthday feasts.

"I thought you said thirteen was a good birthday," Damen reproached.

"It was," Laurent said. "Auguste…" He swallowed around the uncomfortableness of talking to Damen about Laurent's brother in anything but anger and accusation. "Auguste knew I didn't look forward to my annual birthday gala. Hours before the first of twenty courses would have been announced, he took my arm and led me out of the palace. Not that he needed to. I always followed him easily, without needing to be guided. We ended up at the stables. He gestured sweepingly in all directions and asked me where I wanted to go. Anywhere, he said, that my heart desired, for it was my birthday, and my choice. I think he half expected me to order him to take me into the Great Northern Forests, just to be contrary. Even though my birthday would have been well and truly over before we even reached it, and even though it would have been ridiculously dangerous to ride beyond the border into the wild northern lands with it being just the two of us, he probably would have agreed to that. And if I ever would have gone on such a journey with anyone, it would have been Auguste.

"But instead I said I wanted to ride west. There's nothing in particular to the west of Arles, of course, at least not within the distance of a day's ride, except more of the same rolling hills that we could have encountered in most directions we might have headed in. But I was still full of grand notions I'd read in books at age thirteen, and I'd recently read some legend where two people who were granted one last day to spend together kept travelling west towards the setting sun, so that the day would never end. I thought: if I'm for once going to be allowed to spend almost all of my birthday doing my favourite thing in the world, I want to make the day last.

"Of course, riding west only earned us maybe an extra minute of daylight, if that, so it didn't really work. But Auguste loved the idea of it when I told him." Laurent found himself swallowing heavily again. "He always did love my grander schemes, even if back then they were much less crafty and tended to be a little too over the top to be practical. We also got to ride back to Arles under the stars on the clearest night I can remember, so it wasn't all bad that the daylight didn't last.

"When we got back, I thought my father would have a servant greet us at the gates and drag me to be dressed down at my own feast. But it turned out no one had really missed me, since the celebrations were only nominally about me anyway, and no one was about to drag Auguste anywhere even if he'd been missed. So Auguste took me back to his rooms and let me curl up with my head on his chest while he read to me, the way he used to when I was younger, because I was exhausted from a whole day of riding and couldn't keep my eyes open well enough to do any reading myself at that point. I don't even remember where he got up to in the story, or what story it was for that matter. But I do remember hearing his heartbeat in one ear and his steady reading voice in the other. I feel asleep like that."

And that was it. Laurent waited for Damen to say something about how that didn't sound much like the kind of birthday that most people would have held onto and cherished for seven years now. It was true that Laurent could technically have gone riding and read a book any day of the year. But Auguste couldn't usually be spared from his duties for a whole day at length, and certainly not by that age, when their father was starting to show the years on his face and everyone expected that Auguste's rule might not be more than some handful of years away.

"That sounds much nicer than my thirteenth birthday," was what Damen said instead, sounding almost wistful. "I spent most of it bleeding from my first major wound. We'd been fighting with real swords for the first time, and I ended up with the point of one stabbed into my side. I thought I was so grown up, though."

"Someone injured the thirteen-year-old Crown Prince on his birthday? Did they live to tell the tale?" Laurent asked, intrigued. 

Damen smiled, as if it were a fond story. "Yes. And he tells it often, actually. He likes to remind everyone of my more humble beginnings whenever I beat him now."

And that was when Laurent knew the other fighter that day had been Kastor, and that Damen had obviously been ignoring the signs of his brother's jealousy and treachery for at least twelve years now. No wonder it was such an ingrained habit.

Some part of Laurent didn't want to burst the bubble of this strangely easy atmosphere between them by pointing that out, though.

So Laurent just said, "You'd have to talk to my swordmaster back in Arles if you wanted tales about my early days swinging a real sword around. He despaired of me being able to hold my own in a fight before I turned forty, if even then."

"You can more than hold your own now, and you're only half that," Damen observed.

"Yes. Twenty," Laurent said thoughtfully. "Only one year to the day left until I reach my majority. Even now that he's declared me a traitor, Uncle will still grow impatient to deal with me more permanently before my claim to the throne shifts in twelve short months from apparent to real. My hope is that it makes him impetuous, but I can't rely on that. He's too clever and sly."

"I think I'm getting used to those traits," Damen said pointedly.

That easy atmosphere dissipated after all. Laurent scowled. "You've met him once, briefly, and it was while he was taking the knee and handing you Delfeur. You don't know him at all. I'm nothing like him."

Damen, perhaps wisely, didn't say anything to that.

"I think I can safely take my leave now," Laurent decided abruptly, having had more than enough of the bustling crowd now that the noise seemed to be rushing in around him again. "The men are all far enough into their cups that they won't even notice my absence. They'd believe me more likely to hamper their fun than anything, anyway, so they probably wouldn't miss me even if they were sober."

Damen glanced around. "You have a point. I doubt this lot will miss me either at this point. Shall we?"

"You realise that I'm not actually drunk this time, don't you?" Laurent said. 

"Yes. The difference between you drunk and you sober isn't exactly easily mistaken."

"Then you know that I don't need you to escort me back to my apartments," said Laurent.

"I don't mind," Damen said. "It's on my way, considering you provided me with my own suite inside Ravenel right down the hall from yours."

Yes, Laurent had, but only because Laurent wasn't about to make the same mistake as Lord Touars had when Laurent had first arrived at Ravenel. Laurent was far too aware of the political ramifications of his actions. He wasn't about to risk anyone reading into any unwillingness to provide a visiting prince with the consideration that was his due, especially when Laurent was trying to convince Damen's countrymen to take his side. It was hardly because he actually wanted Damen near him.

"What if I mind?" Laurent countered.

"Then tell me to leave you alone."

"I must have already told you that a hundred times by now," Laurent reminded him.

Damen tilted his head slightly. "Tell me again now, if you still mean it."

And Laurent, for some bizarre reason, didn't. 

Damen took that as permission to walk alongside Laurent back towards the castle. The scattered glances as they left the feast together weren't lost on Laurent.

After they'd passed through Ravenel's gates and into the hallways, the doors that led into Laurent's rooms and Damen's came in sight. Knowing they were finally definitely alone, Laurent took his opportunity to say, "You're a fool for continuing to act so obvious. Even your men can see it. Makedon took two seconds to realise your purpose in supporting me. Perhaps that wasn't such a problem until now, since they've probably seen me as just an easily manipulated Omega. If they now start seeing me as anything close to your equal, though, they'll also likely start wondering if I'm a potential threat. You could be risking their good opinions of you if they think you're swayed by a foreign prince who isn't swayed by you. That will make everything harder going forward, for me as well as you. It's not worth sacrificing loyalty or strategic advantage."

"We can't all control our emotions quite as well as you," Damen said.

With an unimpressed tone, Laurent said, "It's just instinct. You're an Alpha who's finally found an Omega he'd like to breed. Get over it."

"That's really not it, you know. As a rule, I prefer women anyway," Damen informed him. 

Laurent gestured expansively around himself. "I don't see many women around here at the moment, and certainly none who look like your type. I suppose that makes me the convenient second-choice. How romantic."

"Convenient?" Damen laughed. " _You_? I could ride to Ios and back a hundred times at a gallop and still have put in considerably less effort than it takes to navigate a single argument with you. Besides, if convenience was what I was looking for, I hardly lack for other, far easier options than you."

No, Laurent had to admit, he surely wouldn't. Even if Damen really was foregoing the use of slaves, there were others who would be more than willing. All anyone had to do was take one look at Damen and it would become immediately clear that, even if he weren't a prince, there would be any number of men and women who would barely need a moment's convincing before they'd let him tumble them. Honestly, Laurent thought that even some of his own soldiers, who still hated the prince-killer, would probably readily accept a night of violent fucking with him.

"I don't care whether or not you're an Omega, or are opportune," Damen continued. "I'm interested because you're as strong as anyone I've ever met. More so."

"You can stop with the false flattery," Laurent said. "I know your game."

"It's not a game, and it's not false," Damen disagreed. "The fact that I want to lay with you doesn't mean I don't respect you, you know."

In Laurent's experience, that was pretty much exactly what it meant.

"I don't believe you," Laurent said, and wished it had come out as harshly as he'd meant it to, instead of slightly unnerved.

"I know you don't," Damen agreed. "But all I can do is keep trying to prove it. Will you let me do that?"

Laurent looked away.

"Good night, Damen," was all he said, and retreated to his rooms before he could say or do something even more telling.


	19. Chapter 19

By this point it had become routine for Damen to show up at Laurent's rooms early in the morning. He usually either came to accompany Laurent beyond the walls of Ravenel to meet up with the Veretian soldiers for a long day of patrolling the area, or he just wanted to catch Laurent for at least a few minutes before they each went to work with their separate armies. There would often barely be time for Laurent's servant to tighten the trailing laces of Laurent's shirt before the door inevitably opened without Laurent's permission. Laurent would glance up at the trespasser and see the face that had more frequently than not featured in the previous night's vivid dreams, courtesy of Laurent's defiant subconscious. 

Even though he went through a similar sequence of events on an almost daily basis now, and should therefore have been desensitised to it, Laurent still lately found that his pulse quickened slightly throughout his morning preparations, as if in anticipation of that sudden intrusion. Thankfully, unlike his scent, it was easier to push down that reaction, at least for someone who had Laurent's practised levels of control. Laurent always managed to school his face and arrange his posture into an image of insouciance, leaving Damen with no reason to suspect that Laurent might be anything but either unconcerned or vaguely annoyed by his presence.

In truth, Laurent once _would_ have been seriously annoyed by Damen's nerve in barging in, or been outright angry. He should still feel that way. But as much as he wished he could, Laurent had no idea how to get back to that place from here. 

When there was a knock on Laurent's door less than an hour after sunrise, Laurent unquestioningly expected it to be Damen. His lips quirked slightly before he intentionally flattened his expression.

It should probably have immediately occurred to Laurent, though, that Damen never bothered with anything as civilised as knocking before entering. When Laurent called out for his visitor to come in, it was Jord who appeared in his room instead.

"Your Highness," Jord greeted, sounding stiffer in his address than he usually would. 

"Captain. I hope you've come to report that there's been a shift in the men's attitudes in the days since the tournament," Laurent said. So far all had seemed much quieter between the groups than it had been before the event. Any outbursts Laurent had heard about in the tournament's aftermath had tended to be boisterous rather than violent, much like the way Laurent's men sometimes challenged each other within their own ranks when they were bored. However, Jord would admittedly be in a better position than Laurent to know of the men's real perspective on these things.

"I have, in a way," Jord hedged, but offered no more information.

When it became clear that Jord had no intention of continuing, Laurent prompted, "I haven't heard about any outward continuing signs of tension with the Akielons. How is the mood in the barracks?"

"The resentment towards the Akielon soldiers is much less of an issue than it was just a short while ago." He stressed the word 'soldiers' slightly, as if there were more to the story, but he still didn't elaborate further.

It was like drawing blood from a stone. Whatever Jord had actually come here to talk about, it clearly wasn't something that he actually _wanted_ to discuss. It was odd to see him dodge around something this way; he was usually more up front. It must have been some topic that he found uncomfortable, or potentially that he thought Laurent would.

"Well I'm sure the men will at least be pleased to learn that many of them will be marching out soon," Laurent said. "I think they're probably all dying for a battle, especially since they're not allowed to really fight the Akielons. Most of us will ride for Fortaine, while the remaining men hold down Ravenel, as soon as I can be sure the factions won't turn on each other in the middle of battle."

Jord nodded, but still looked uncomfortable. "That seems like a sound strategy."

"But clearly you're not here to talk strategy at all," Laurent said frankly, barely restraining himself from sounding exasperated. "Or at least not that kind of strategy. So let's stop dancing around whatever issue you're actually here for. Speak your mind."

"You told me to come to you with any concerns," Jord reminded Laurent.

Laurent's eyebrows rose slightly. "So I did."

"The men have been talking," Jord said.

"They do little else when there's no battle to be fought," Laurent acknowledged. "Even then, sometimes. They're bigger gossips than the ladies in Arles half the time."

"But this time," Jord said carefully, "what they're talking about so avidly is the supposed relationship between you and the Akielon Prince."

It felt like something hard formed in his gut at those words. Laurent grimaced. "I thought that kind of rumour was shut down before it could start spreading," he said as evenly as he could manage.

"It was," Jord assured him. "And even now no one is stupid enough to think that anything happened back then, during the attempted parley in Akielos, except that you out-strategised him. But the way you act now –"

"The way _I_ act?" Laurent questioned sharply. 

Jord clarified, "The way the two of you are together."

"We aren't anything together except allies," Laurent said. "And even that's pushing it some days."

"At the beginning, yes," Jord agreed. "But recently –"

"Is that all?" Laurent interrupted, not wanting to hear it put into words. "If so, I appreciate the report, but I have a siege to plan."

Jord looked ill. "Oh. I'd hoped..."

Laurent glared at him, but said nothing to defend himself. Because he'd done nothing that was in need of defence, obviously. 

If it had just been gossip over Laurent's potential bedroom habits and partners, that would have been one thing. Laurent was more than used to that. Even if the men had come to the conclusion, as Orlant once had, that Laurent might fuck the man who killed his brother purely to get some kind of advantage over him, that would have been appalling for all involved, Laurent especially, but Laurent would have recovered from it. His soldiers already thought him cold and unfeeling, after all. That would just have been the final proof of it.

But it was clear from the way Jord looked at him now that it was as Laurent had always feared it would be; everyone assumed that Laurent, not Damen, was the one being used, because how else could it be between an Alpha and Omega. Laurent could tell that even _Jord_ thought that Laurent was acting like some brainless adolescent with his first ever crush, and that he was subsequently letting Damen play him. If not even Jord believed better of him, surely none of them would.

It was Damen's behaviour that was spurring such rumours on in the first place, Laurent thought angrily. Any idiot could see how Damen treated their tête-à-têtes as if they were a prelude to something more. Laurent had told him that he was risking this sort of thing, but at the time Laurent had only thought that it would lead to problems in Damen's camp, not his own.

Laurent kept trying to win his men's full loyalty and respect, and he somehow kept coming up short, usually because of things he had little power to influence. Damen lately seemed to be right at the top of the list of things that were outside Laurent's control.

It was frustrating beyond measure. Laurent felt like he was boiling with it. Damen would have punched the wall in this kind of mood, probably. Laurent, on the other hand, was liable to start using his words instead of his fists, probably to tear strips from the first innocent servant or hapless soldier he came across in the halls. It really ought to be Damen who bore the brunt of it, considering he was the cause of the problem, and therefore was far more deserving of such treatment. 

Laurent found Damen in the training ring, sparring with, of all people, Orlant. 

Unlike Laurent might have expected, there was nothing of seriousness in their fighting. It was, from what Laurent could tell, a completely affable match. Orlant was even grinning a little as he managed to advance on Damen, though to Laurent's eye it was obvious that Damen wasn't exactly trying his hardest to drive Orlant back. Last Laurent had heard, Orlant's only direct interactions with Damen had involved threatening his bodily integrity if anything happened to Laurent on Damen's watch. That suspicion seemed to be gone. To all appearances, Damen had recently been establishing multiple newly friendly relationships with Veretians.

But, Laurent realised, even if the casual vibe between them was real, Orlant sparring with Damen surely must have actually been a prearranged distraction, designed to keep Damen away from Laurent's rooms that morning for at least long enough that Jord could say his piece. Why else would Damen have happened to be otherwise disposed on this particular morning, when every other morning this week he'd showed up at Laurent's door? Jord apparently hadn't believed that Laurent would willingly send Damen away even if his Captain needed to speak with him alone. He'd felt he needed to go behind Laurent's back to get Damen out of the way, if only for a short while.

"Leave, now," Laurent ordered Orlant impatiently, heedless of the fact that Orlant was right in the middle of swinging his sword. Laurent wasn't in the mood to wait on anyone, let alone someone who apparently had a small role in conspiring against him. It was only the fact that Orlant himself probably saw his actions as entirely innocent that saved him from being chewed out, and then only barely. It might not have done if Laurent didn't have a better mark already within his sights.

Damen narrowed his eyes at Laurent as Orlant, clearly sensing Laurent's temper, hastened to follow his Prince's command. Though Laurent noticed that Orlant did glance back at them speculatively just before he disappeared out the door. Laurent could likely expect yet more gossip about himself and Damen to be spread before the day was done, it seemed. Just perfect.

"Looking for a fight?" Damen asked, taking in Laurent's tense posture and clouded expression.

"I wasn't particularly, no. But apparently you're intent on making me fight even harder for everything anyway," Laurent said. 

Damen looked legitimately confused. "What are you talking about? I've only ever tried to make things easier." 

"Then it turns out that you're something of a failure. You're undermining my position," Laurent bit out.

"I'm what?" Damen said.

"I _told you_ that everyone can see the way you act around me, and you didn't seem to care," accused Laurent. "And why should you have, when it's apparently not your men who are losing respect for you over it, but mine who are questioning me. My soldiers see you constantly pressing at me, trying to charm me, and start to think that you would never dare to take such liberties in public unless I'm bending over and begging for you in private. If you were under my command I'd have you flogged for encouraging that perception. Sadly your rank means that I'm denied that pleasure unless I want to fight a different war than the one I had planned." 

"So you'll just flog me verbally instead?" Damen asked.

"It's less than you deserve," Laurent shot back. "Because you act as though you care whether I succeed, but all the while you make it nearly impossible for me to do so." 

"I do care," Damen insisted. "And I can help you fix this, and more."

"It's likely too late for that, thanks to you," Laurent argued. "Tell me, how long do you think it will take before the idea that I'm letting my brother's killer control me affects my soldiers' morale and their willingness to follow me? Hours? Minutes? That's how quickly the work of months may all fall apart. Congratulations. You've managed to screw me after all."

"Thanks to me," Damen repeated. "Of course. Because if anyone ever possibly thought that you might feel something other than a desire to kill me, it obviously must be all my fault," Damen said sarcastically. He sounded suddenly as though he too was close to reaching the end of his rope. "Don't you think the Veretian soldiers would all be just laughing themselves silly over the stupid love-struck Prince of Akielos if my side of things was all they saw?" 

"There is _nothing_ to see on 'my side'," Laurent hissed.

"Then why can I see it so clearly lately?" Damen asked.

Laurent scowled. "You've only ever seen exactly what you what to see."

"What I see is that even though you repress everything more than anyone I've ever met, there are moments when you still betray yourself," Damen pointed out. "I can tell how you hate that you forget to hate me sometimes. Clearly that makes you want to lash out at me. Well take out your frustration on me all you want, Laurent. But I'm not the one you're really trying to fight against here."

"You go too far," Laurent warned furiously.

Damen didn't stop, though, ignoring Laurent's tone. "You can blame me if you like, but what you can't do is just pretend there's nothing here. If there wasn't, you wouldn't be running away like this. Even though I've seen you when you've been utterly at my mercy with no reason to think I would spare your life, when you've been trapped in the middle of hundreds of enemy Alphas with your heat on the way, and when you've faced down opponents far bigger and stronger than yourself who were swinging their weapons in potentially killing blows, this is still the first time I've seen you scared. Are you so used to dealing with lies and trickery that you're too afraid to face the truth when it's staring you down?"

"You utter fool. You think I'm afraid? Of _you_? Well I'm more than willing to prove you wrong. Ready your sword and face me," Laurent ordered, even as he stalked over and yanked a sword of his own viciously off the wall. There could be no mistaking that Laurent didn't mean for it to be the kind of friendly sparring that had passed between Damen and Orlant.

The seriousness of the call to arms seemed to bring Damen's vexation up short.

"Laurent," Damen entreated in a very different tone to the one he'd just been using, as if he'd finally realised he might have misstepped, but too late.

" _Raise. Your. Sword._ "

"Don't do this now. Not like this. You said you wouldn't make the same mistake twice," Damen tried to remind him. "This is anger talking, and it will fade, but the consequences if you act now may not. Calm down and think about it first."

But Laurent didn't even really want to think right then. What he wanted was to point the tip of his sword at Damen. Damen didn't raise his own in response, regardless of the fact that Laurent had ordered him to, twice. He still didn't shift the weapon as Laurent started taking measured paces forward. 

"Laurent, stop," Damen entreated.

Laurent gritted his teeth angrily and didn't comply.

Instead of finally raising his sword at the last moment to parry Laurent, Damen instead dropped his weapon deliberately to the ground just before Laurent reached him. The tip of Laurent's sword came to rest on Damen's chest, uncontested, but it moved no further. 

It was almost like a strange re-enactment of their first meeting, except that the look in Damen's eyes wasn't unperturbed bordering on amused this time, and Damen wasn't actually doing anything to hold Laurent back, either. Laurent was doing all that work himself. Laurent stood there, chest heaving, as if he was at the tail end of a massive duel rather than just barely restraining himself from starting one. Not that it would be much of a duel, with Damen's sword on the ground before it began.

"Pick your sword up, idiot," Laurent ordered.

"No," Damen said. 

"I promised I'd let you have a sword before I attacked, not that I'd stop fighting you if had one and then tossed it across the room like a child before I could reach you," Laurent gritted out.

"I'm not picking it up," Damen stubbornly insisted. "If you're going to try to kill me, you'll have to do it like this, unarmed. I'm not fighting you."

"You really think I'm honourable enough to care whether you're armed?" Laurent asked.

"Yes," said Damen baldly, "I do."

"It didn't stop me last time I had a weapon pressed to you," Laurent reminded him. 

"Things have changed since then, whether you want to believe it or not," Damen said. "And you weren't just angry and worried that day. It's not the same."

Laurent held his sword tip steady against Damen's chest, unyielding. Just the tiniest bit more pressure would cause a blooming spread of red to stain the white material over Damen's ribs. More than that would send Damen to the floor, gasping, like the guard who'd thought he could take advantage of Laurent during his first heat. 

"And if you're wrong about that? Would you just let me run you through?" Laurent asked.

"No," Damen said. "I wouldn't. I have an army, and ultimately a kingdom, relying on me. But I wouldn't kill you to stop you either."

"You're a walking contradiction," Laurent indicted him. "You kill my brother, but spare me. You act as if taking advantage of an Omega in your custody would be unthinkable, but you've used slaves with alacrity. You show a great mind for strategy and counsel, and yet you make the stupidest decisions just because you're willing to trust blindly. One minute I think you're a good man, maybe even the best of men, and then the next I'm reminded of exactly why I want to kill you. Is this your plan? Are you trying to tie me into knots with confusion until I'm the one who makes stupid mistakes?"

"I don't have any kind of plan," Damen said.

Laurent laughed bitterly. "I think that might be the truest thing you've said since I met you. Which is saying something, since I'm not actually convinced you know how to lie."

"If I can't lie, then why can't you trust me?" Damen asked. 

"You _killed my brother_ ," Laurent said. "What kind of fool would I have to be to place my life in your hands?"

"You tried to kill me," Damen said, and glanced down at the sword. "And here we are, with my life in yours."

"You _are_ a fool, though," Laurent pointed out. "I bet I could dig the sword under your skin one tiny increment after another and you wouldn't pull away until the very last second before it became deadly. Or maybe not even then, because you'd just keep on expecting me to stop before I did you real harm. You trust far too easily."

"And here you act as though you find me hard to comprehend," said Damen. "I'm sure that Nikandros would say that you perfectly understand the most important thing about me."

"Of course I made a point of figuring out your biggest flaw," Laurent reasoned. "To defeat your enemy, you first need to know them." 

"You know, my father taught me that lesson as well," Damen said. "It's why I learned to speak Veretian in the first place. So I suppose the question is this: do you know me well enough by now?"

Damen could have stepped backward, swiftly, and been out of the range of Laurent's sword in an instant. He could have sidestepped the point of it and grabbed for his own sword on the ground before Laurent could have given him more than a surface wound. He could probably even have used those long muscular legs to kick out at Laurent and knock Laurent himself backwards. There were avenues for Damen to get himself out of this situation intact, even without a weapon in his hand. 

Instead he just stood there, vulnerable, presented for Laurent to do with him as he pleased, and stayed in place with little qualm.

"Yes," Laurent concluded tiredly after a long moment. "I think I've come to know the measure of you, Damianos."

Laurent sometimes wished he hadn't.

Laurent was the one who stepped back, and the tip of his sword fell away. He let the sword fall into the sawdust, much as Damen's had.

He felt like he'd just given up something other than a weapon.

Damen breathed, not quite a sigh, but still a show of relief. Laurent didn't think it was relief that he was still alive, exactly, for Damen hadn't at any stage seemed overly worried for his life. His fear had been for something else. 

"Can we talk like men now?" Damen asked calmly. 

"If I were you," Laurent said, "I wouldn't push your luck just now. I'm still tempted to make you bleed, even if only a little."

"All right," Damen conceded. "But you should know that even if your men question you now, it's hardly a hopeless situation. If you trust nothing and no one else, trust that you have the ability to make them follow you without question, if you're willing to use it. You can win them over, completely. And if you let me, I'll help you do it."

Laurent wanted to scoff at that. He wanted to tell Damen he didn't need his help. 

Instead Laurent heard himself say, "You caused the problem, so you had better be part of the solution. Now get out. Idiot."

Laurent certainly hadn't meant to give Damen a reason to look slightly pleased when he finally left Laurent alone to think, which was what Damen probably should have done the moment Laurent had stepped into the training ring looking like he wanted to murder something. But then, it was becoming more and more clear to Laurent by the day that when it came to Damen, Laurent rarely came out of any situation exactly the way he intended.


	20. Chapter 20

Damen was pretending to focus on the sketch Laurent had drawn of Fortaine's defences, based on his scouts' reports and the recollections of Enguerran and a few other soldiers of Ravenel who had set foot inside the closest neighbouring fortress over the years. In truth, though, it was readily apparent where the majority of Damen's attention really was, given how he kept glancing up at Laurent's face every few seconds. Damen might have been watching him closely because he was wary of any signs that Laurent planned on lashing out at him again. Or it could have just been that Damen couldn’t keep his eyes off Laurent for long regardless. That sort of behaviour was half their problem. Though only half, Laurent had to privately admit now that he was thinking more clearly than he had been during their confrontation two days ago.

Finally giving up on his feigned concentration, Damen commented, "You're frustrated." Again, he didn't add. Still. 

"Of course I am," Laurent agreed. "After all this planning, now I'm unsure if we can even risk moving on Fortaine while my soldiers likely think that in giving them orders to attack I might act as your mouthpiece and little else." 

"Taking Fortaine might actually be the first step in showing them that they're wrong about that," Damen suggested. "It's my understanding that two thirds of the army of Ravenel were lost during our fight near Breteau, and as a result the army you command now is smaller than it might otherwise have been. With the numbers being as even as they were then, those losses would have been nearly impossible to avoid. That's not really the case this time. I know you believe that there are men in Fortaine who could be added to your ranks. If your men are really scrutinising my supposed influence over you, it will play to your advantage for them to see as many of those men as possible survive, for that would be a definitive victory for Vere more so than Akielos. Your men would be left in little doubt that you didn't just cave in to the will of the Prince of Akielos then."

"You think we can take Fortaine with minimal Veretian casualties?" Laurent asked. "I doubt it. Your Akielon soldiers are thirsty for Veretian blood that they're actually allowed to spill."

"That's exactly the way your men will think, I'm sure," Damen said. "That's the point. They'll think that if I'm the one who's truly in control of this, it will be a slaughter, because that's exactly what most of my men _would_ prefer, if it were up to them."

"And you think you can rein them in?" Laurent asked. "Even Makedon? Which is presuming we can even get him to ride to Fortaine." 

Damen nodded. "Since it doesn't require leaving the border, Makedon will be well pleased with being part of the capture of Fortaine. More so, I think, than if he'd been there when we took Ravenel, given the less than forthright way it fell to us. Even with Makedon and his army there, I can make sure the clash is as bloodless as possible," Damen said, sounding confident. "That's not the issue. The real question is: can you actually _trust me_ to help you do this?"

"I already told you that I didn't trust anyone," Laurent said, which conspicuously wasn't quite a 'no'. "Anyway, it will take more than just that to counter the fact that they think I roll over for you in bed."

"You'll have time and opportunity to take further steps at Fortaine," Damen reminded Laurent.

Laurent still wasn't convinced. "The men at Fortaine will fight, though. Your men won't be persuaded not to fight back."

"No," Damen agreed. "Their orders will be to capture rather than kill or maim wherever possible, but I won't ask them to die just to prevent loss of Veretian life. The key will be to stop the soldiers in Fortaine from fighting as quickly as possible, not to stop my men from defending themselves. We could overwhelm them. Nikandros has men still at Marlas who can join with us just before we reach Fortaine. Makedon has many thousand more at his disposal, and while he will refuse to remove them all from Delpha, and I wouldn’t even suggest it when it would leave Akielos far more vulnerable to attack by your uncle or Vask, he might be persuaded to call perhaps half of them to the border. We could simply amass and force Fortaine into a bloodless surrender based on numbers alone."

Laurent remembered with the eyes of a thirteen year old boy at his first real battle how Marlas had seemed to be an endless sea of Akielon colours, but realistically the surviving Akielons couldn't have numbered more than ten thousand. There would have been young men joining the ranks of the army in the six years since then, of course. But still, based on Damen's assessment of the soldiers still inside Delfeur combined with those currently at Ravenel, the vast majority of the Akielon army would now seem to operate out of their northern-most region. Laurent tried to imagine most of the masses he'd seen at Marlas pouring over the border into Vere and found himself shaking his head.

"No," Laurent said thoughtfully. "Not with the way things are just now, at least. My men are already outnumbered by yours several times over. If there is a further surge of Akielon soldiers into Vere, what would the ratio be then? Ten to one? More? That would have the opposite effect on my men than what you say you intend. Besides, we already significantly outnumber the men of Fortaine even without more Akielon soldiers. Fortaine is a grander fort than Ravenel, but its power is in its walls, not its army. Guion has only a skeleton troop and relies heavily on reinforcements in case of outside threat. It's why he's always kept close ties with Ravenel, until now. Unfortunately for him, my scouts inform me that Uncle has only sent some two hundred extra men, making perhaps five hundred in total garrisoned in the castle."

Guion would have been quietly furious about that, after the amount of loyal support he'd shown Uncle, but he would have known there was little point in arguing. Uncle couldn't afford to just hand Laurent his third fortress, and with it control of the entire border, but neither could he take the chance that if he overcommitted Vere's soldiers to Fortaine's protection that Laurent wouldn't just write it off as too much trouble and move straight towards Arles while the resistance in that direction was lower.

"So we can easily take them if we can just get to them," Damen concluded. "But do you think our numbers are sufficient to make them just drop their weapons instead of taking their chances?"

"Not alone, no," said Laurent. "Getting inside the walls will be the key in more ways than one. There's an easy enough way to engender a ceasefire once I'm through the gates. There may be some initial bloodshed, but the fighting would likely be called off in just minutes if I had my way."

"And you're very good at getting your own way, aren't you?" Damen remarked, looking amused. "Let's hear it, then. You've clearly got a plan in mind."

"There are a few options," Laurent admitted. "One is for the army to act as a diversion. If our forces approach from a single direction, and there are too few men in Fortaine to deal with such a large force, then it stands to reason that almost all of the eyes of Fortaine will be focused on that army. It would be easy for them to miss a single climber heading up the least visible part of the opposite side of the wall."

"No," Damen said firmly.

"It could work," Laurent countered.

"I mean, no, that climber isn't going to be you. I know you wouldn't want to leave the most important job up to someone else."

"I can climb," Laurent argued. "I'm light and nimble. Unlike certain people with ridiculously large muscles, my weight won't drag me down, and I'm small enough not to attract attention."

"While under other circumstances I'd love to watch you climb a castle wall, it's not going to happen like this," Damen informed him flatly. "If you're detected, all it will take is a face full of hot oil poured on you from above to send you plummeting to the ground. The two of us hold this combined army together by a thin thread. Neither of us can afford to take useless risks with our lives."

"You've risked your life multiple times when you didn't have to," Laurent pointed out.

"Not uselessly," Damen countered, and no, Laurent thought, it hadn't been. It had earned Damen something, even if Laurent had never intended for that to happen.

"I don't need your permission," Laurent reminded him.

"If you sneak off and start climbing that wall, I'll be climbing up it right after you," Damen warned. "Then your Councillor Guion can congratulate himself on taking out the heirs to two kingdoms in one fell swoop."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Well, don't blame me if you don't like the alternative then."

Laurent made sure Damen was absent from the castle before he called Enguerran into his rooms. He couldn't afford to waste time on the inevitable Alpha posturing that occurred whenever Damen and Enguerran were in close quarters, for one thing, but more importantly, Laurent had no intention of Damen hearing the content of this discussion.

"My ultimate allegiance is to you, Your Highness," Enguerran assured him after Laurent had detailed the plan. "But understand that you're asking me to betray the trust of the rightful future Lord of the fortress I've defended loyally since before the boy was even born."

Laurent studied him, but could find no suggestion that Enguerran had any other reason why he wanted to resist Laurent's orders. That was despite the fact that of all the soldiers under Laurent's command he was the one with the most personal experience of Damen's jealous Alpha behaviour, and therefore the one with potentially the most reason to believe any hearsay on that count.

"I'm asking you to ultimately look after the boy's best interests," Laurent countered. "This is a necessary step towards overturning the Regent's power. And trust me, Thevenin should be glad to have him dethroned. My uncle keeps his less savoury character traits fairly under wraps even within the walls of Arles, so it's no surprise any gossip hasn't travelled as far as the soldiers at Ravenel. But I'll tell you now, if my uncle remains in power, one day, maybe in a year or two, he'll make a trip to the south to cement his power on the border. He'll arrive all smiles and benevolence, and he'll be delighted to find his only real obstacle to having complete control of Ravenel is a boy of ten or eleven years with a clear face and a kind of hesitant credulity towards newcomers who haven't yet earned his ire, as I now have. I'm not sure Thevenin will ever be considered a beauty of the ages, but I suppose he's winsome enough to merit the kind of intimate connection my uncle does so enjoy making with boys his age, especially when it will allow him to exert his influence. I imagine the Regent would particularly love to have the future Lord of Ravenel so heavily under his thumb from such a tender age."

Laurent's meaning clearly did not pass by Enguerran, who looked as though he might be physically ill at the thought of the boy he'd protected for nearly a decade being used in that way.

"If we follow your plan, he won't be hurt?" Enguerran finally asked.

"Of course not," Laurent assured him. "Unlike my uncle, I'm certainly not one for mistreating children. Thevenin might hate me now for being involved in his father's death, but I bear him no ill will in return. When he's older and has matured enough to come to terms with why his father died, I'll be happy to let him have his rightful claim over Ravenel as long as he swears fealty to me. This is his best option as well as ours, even if he'll likely never know it."

"All right," Enguerran agreed, though Laurent noticed he still sounded uncertain. "I'll organise it."

Two days later there was an attack on the quarters where Thevenin and his contingent were under house arrest. Hestal could practically be heard shouting halfway across the castle about Laurent's apparent disinterest in keeping them safe from Akielon assassins. Laurent had no idea Lord Touars's old advisor still had such a healthy set of lungs. 

"My men didn't have anything to do the attack on Touars's son," Damen was quick to assure Laurent as soon as he heard of it.

"Of course they didn't," Laurent scoffed. "Why would they bother? The boy is no threat to the interests of Akielos, or at least he won't be for at least another twelve years or so. And I'm sure those of your people who might be thinking ahead to such things would still prefer an inexperienced boy having the eventual control of Ravenel over having someone with greater military wherewithal granted the Lordship of it upon Thevenin's death. Besides, as far as I'm aware, your men don't even know where Thevenin was being kept under house arrest. Such a precision strike would have been impossible without intimate knowledge of the way through to their location."

Damen narrowed his eyes at Laurent's nonchalance. " _You_ arranged it, didn't you," Damen accused.

"Yes."

"You said I wouldn't like your plan," Damen said with dawning comprehension.

"And I can already see that I was right."

"He's just a boy," Damen reminded him.

"And he's utterly fine, apart from having received a little bit of a fright," said Laurent. "No one was injured. As I said, it was a precision strike. My level of precision, not yours."

Damen shook his head. "You expect the boy's advisor to smuggle out a message to Guion and have Guion leave the shelter of his own castle to rescue him? My recollection of the Ambassador to Vere is hazy, as my father disliked dealing with Vere any more frequently than absolutely necessary, but Guion didn't strike me as a man given to selfless heroics."

"He's not," Laurent agreed. "But I don't expect that it'll be a message that's smuggled out. I'd strongly suggest you advise your people not to move to stop Thevenin, Hestal and their guard escorts when they see them fleeing in the direction of Fortaine."

"Why would they go to Fortaine when they could go straight to Arles?" Damen asked.

"The guards who are escorting them will insist it's the safest option, obviously."

"Because those guards will be loyal to you," Damen concluded.

"So Enguerran assures me," said Laurent. "There are men whom Hestal will trust with his own and Thevenin's safety without question, but who can be persuaded, as Enguerran was, that in helping us take Fortaine they'll ultimately be acting far more in Thevenin's interests than they would be if they worked against me."

"And what if Guion is currently wary enough of anything to do with Ravenel that he refuses to invite anyone coming from here into his castle?" countered Damen.

"A boy, an old man, and a few guards?" Laurent scoffed. "Even if the thought of there being some danger in that occurs to him, Guion will conclude the risk is negligible. He can't really afford to do otherwise, to be honest. If Guion intends for his family to live peacefully and prosperously at Fortaine for the foreseeable future, there are two people he can't afford to just deny entry to his fortress. One is my uncle. The other is the future Lord of the fortress most likely to provide Guion with aid, particularly when that future Lord is asking for refuge. Guion and his heirs can't afford for Thevenin to carry a lifelong grudge, the way mistreated boys often tend to."

"As he'll carry a grudge against Akielos, not you, since he thinks we're the ones who attacked him," Damen realised.

"Well he already hates me more than enough to be getting on with for my part in his father's death," Laurent reasoned. "There was no point in adding to that. And since you were technically the one to actually kill his father, I don't actually think he could hate you any more than he already did anyway."

"You really do think of everything, don't you?" Damen said. Then he frowned. "Wait. You proposed that idiotic plan of climbing the wall just so I'd agree to this as the more reasonable alternative, didn't you?"

Laurent's slight smile was smug. "I bet I could have pulled off that climb if I'd had to, though. Some other time, I suppose."

Damen looked like he wanted to bury his face in his hands. But he didn't protest any further.

Thevenin, Hestal and their few servants and guards that had survived the fight they put up during the initial incursion into Ravenel were released from captivity in the dead of night less than three days later by four of the original guards of Ravenel. Laurent's scouts informed him that they were headed straight for Fortaine, as planned.

"Ready the men," Laurent ordered Jord. "We ride for Fortaine."

As they prepared to leave, Laurent told Damen, "I'll go after Guion as soon as we breach."

"Like you went after Touars?" Damen teased. 

"Just because you got there first doesn't mean I wouldn't have been able to take him on just as easily," Laurent huffed. "But actually I don't intend to kill Guion at all. I believe I can quickly convince him to get his soldiers to stand down if we capture his family. That's what you'll be doing, by the way."

"I thought you'd consider that job too important to entrust to anyone else," Damen said.

Not so much when that someone was Damen, Laurent thought, even as he questioned his sanity slightly when he reflected on that. But Laurent had little doubt that Damen would manage it. Strangely, he hadn't ever let Laurent down yet. 

"Sadly I can't be everywhere at once," Laurent said. "I assume you're capable of navigating yourself to here." Laurent pointed to the series of rooms on his sketch where Guion's family would be kept for their safety during a battle. Damen studied it and then nodded. "I understand Guion's wife and youngest son are the only ones of his household still living inside the walls of Fortaine," Laurent informed him. "When I call him 'youngest', though, don't let that fool you. Guion's other sons are well and truly grown, so I'm sure this one is at least old enough to hold up a sword. Expect resistance. And don't foolishly let them attack you just because you don't think it's a fair fight. I won't be there to throw any spears this time."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence. I don't know how I survived all these years without you," Damen said wryly.

"Neither do I," Laurent agreed, serious.

From the moment they set out less than two hours later, the ride to Fortaine immediately became almost as rowdy as the tournament and following feast at Ravenel had been. Laurent had certainly been right when he'd proposed that the men were keen for a real fight, even if some of them likely wouldn't even get the chance to clash blades with anyone, given the way the numbers fell and the fact that the gate of Fortaine, even once it was open, was going to somewhat bottleneck Laurent's and Damen's soldiers. 

Had they faced a stronger army, Laurent would have insisted on camping some distance away from Fortaine once they arrived in the area so that they'd be refreshed after the ride before they attacked. As it was, the element of surprise was a more useful tool to them than a bit of extra rest. As soon as they saw Fortaine on the horizon, they formed into more solid lines and rode for the gate.

In the end, it went off without a hitch. The archers atop the walls of Fortaine must have been baffled when their potential targets immediately wandered close enough to the wall to be within range of the arrows, but then the gates of Fortaine opened without warning and suddenly the purpose of their bold approach became clear. 

The defences of Fortaine hadn't been prepared with the idea in mind that Laurent might have an inside man to open a channel into the fortress, and most of the soldiers were accordingly atop the battlements rather than waiting to meet the incoming army down in the courtyard. It was simple enough for Laurent to slip through the gaps of the initial small resistance while the most of the soldiers were still scurrying down to head off the invaders. Laurent barely had to use his sword before breaking through the ranks.

The one thing that didn't go quite according to plan was that when Laurent found Guion, he wasn't alone, and it wasn't just the two guards that Laurent knocked out and sent to the ground half-stunned respectively. Beside Guion stood a young man who clearly bore a resemblance to him. Laurent had thought Guion's fourth son was younger than this – young enough that he'd be barely past clinging to his mother's skirts in a situation like this – but he looked to be only a year or so Laurent's junior. Though perhaps it was just that his face was aged somewhat by his hateful expression when he looked upon Laurent, so similar to his father's targeted contempt.

It wasn't much harder for Laurent to subdue two men than one in this case, however, for the son wasn't yet well practised in fighting, and once Laurent had his sword to the boy's throat, Guion's attacks on Laurent slowed to a halt as well.

"Aimeric, don't," Guion ordered as his son tried to thrash towards Laurent, even unarmed, nearly cutting his own throat open against Laurent's sword in the process.

"Yes, Aimeric, don't," Laurent agreed. To Guion, he ordered, "There's a guard outside who will likely be picking himself back up off the ground right about now. Call for him to send a message to your men to stand down, and I'll spare your son. Or alternatively you can have him try to call for reinforcements, though I'm sure they're too busy to come to your side anyway, or you can attack me yourself; either way, Aimeric here will die for your efforts. Your choice."

"I'd rather die than be captured by you," Aimeric said.

"Would you like the same fate for your mother?" Laurent asked Aimeric, though really he meant for Guion to overhear. "I'm expecting to receive word of her capture any minute now."

"Your people won't hurt her any more than you'll hurt Aimeric," Guion said, sounding sure of himself. "You're all too weak to do what's necessary."

"Yes, I'm far too weak to invade your fort and threaten your family," Laurent replied sardonically as he moved the sword down Aimeric's chest and dug the tip of the sword in just enough to make a bead of red form demonstratively. "I couldn't possibly be willing to sacrifice a few people to take a whole fortress, could I? Even if that were true, though, sadly for you I didn't send soldiers who are under my command to find your wife. I sent Damianos of Akielos." Guion's eyes widened. "I have it on good authority that killing one person to avoid needing to fight a whole army is a preferred tactic of his."

Aimeric shouted, "You traitor! I knew he was right about you!"

Laurent ignored Aimeric in favour of saying to Guion, "You might want to go order your people to lay down their swords before Damianos gets tempted to use his. He does so enjoy killing Veretians."

It struck Laurent as a ridiculous threat, since of the two of them, Damen was the one who was far too principled to hurt Guion's relatively helpless family members, while Laurent would do whatever he had to, especially without Damen there to remind Laurent that he had his own code of honour after all. However, Guion clearly believed the prince-killer would happily slaughter a probably unarmed Veretian woman, and so he folded, as Laurent had known he would. In the distance, the sounds of clashing swords began to die down.

"You'll regret this when the King comes to assist us," Aimeric said as he was taken into custody and dragged through the halls towards the courtyard by two of Laurent's soldiers, who'd made their way through to Laurent's side as soon as the men of Fortaine began to lower their weapons on their Lord's command. 

Laurent smiled humourlessly. "Vere currently has no King, at least not for another year yet. And stopping me from holding your fortress would have been the only reason my uncle, the Regent, would have helped you. I already have Fortaine now. You've lost any significance you might have had to him."

"You're wrong," Aimeric said. " _He loves me_. He'll come for me."

Laurent looked skyward, barely suppressing a sigh. "Of course. Look at you. I'm sure you caught my uncle's eye when you were a barely ripe little thing, didn't you? Which, probably not coincidentally, would have been back when your father first gained his current foothold in the court, I think." Laurent looked at Guion. "You care less for family than I thought if you were willing to whore out your son for my uncle's transient favour." 

Guion was pale, but not as much Aimeric himself, who spat, "Shut up. You're just jealous."

Laurent had difficulty imagining that Uncle would have been so foolish as to give away any sensitive details of his and Laurent's affiliation to some child on the border who would barely have held his interest for a few weeks, but just the thought that Aimeric might _know_ made Laurent reflexively unleash his tongue.

"Yes, I can see the attraction now. He does like his boys to be sweet towards him and spiteful to everyone else," Laurent considered. "You'd have been the closest thing to my uncle's type that a backwater like Fortaine had to offer, though I think you still wouldn't quite have passed for his real preference even back then. My uncle likes boys who are likely to present as Omegas one day, you see. He likes to play at being an Alpha. Did he whisper in your ear about how he'd knot you until you screamed? Were you disappointed when your scent never changed?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Aimeric hissed.

"Of course I do," Laurent said. "Better than you do, I'd say. You'd have known him for all of a few weeks before he flitted back to Arles without giving you a second thought. I've known him my whole life. Don't worry, though, you didn't miss out on anything when you turned out to be a Beta; he couldn't get it up for an actual Omega in heat even if he'd been born an Alpha after all. By that stage they're too old for him. Just like you are now. You might have already been on your way to getting too old even back then. Or perhaps laying with you was just dull enough that he was over it quickly. Either way, he left you behind in Fortaine, didn't he?"

"I was going to the capital," Aimeric denied. "He asked me to, before you left for the border."

Laurent thoughtfully speculated, "But then he lost interest, didn't he? Because why bother bringing you to Arles when you could no longer be worked into my Guard? Uncle would have known I'd have taken you on, even as useless with a sword as you are, because I'd never turn down even the fourth Beta son of a Lord I needed to have a bargaining chip against. I'm sure he would have loved it if some little country dalliance he'd had years ago ended up somehow being the key to my downfall. But I bet he never even thought of you at all until he realised you might finally have use again."

"You're wrong. He missed me! It's you he never cared about. You have no idea how much he wants you to suffer."

"Oh, I have a very good idea, actually. And still, even though he doesn't care enough about you to wish such a fate on you, he has you suffering far more than I am," Laurent said. He looked to his soldiers. "Get him out of here."

It turned out that Aimeric, who spoke too freely when riled up, and who was the son of a fortress-holding Lord with whom the comparison to Thevenin was easily drawn, did Laurent quite a favour as he was hauled away, by turns spewing increasingly graphic invective and sobbing that the Regent had always loved him over the years, whatever Laurent said. 

At that point, Enguerran turned to Laurent and admitted, "I thought you might have been wrong in your estimation of the Regent. I shouldn't have doubted you, even a little."

It meant something that he said it. He could have kept quiet, and Laurent would never have known of his misgivings. But then, in that case Laurent wouldn't have learned that Enguerran's trust in Laurent's word had just increased either. That was important.

"My uncle's sins are numerous, and are surely hard for a good man like yourself to grasp," Laurent said forgivingly.

Laurent had never seen Enguerran look less than composed, even when he was on his back with Damen growling down at him. But now he flushed slightly at Laurent's words. Not in embarrassment, Laurent realised, but in pleasure at his Prince calling him a 'good man'. 

When Damen appeared, it was clear he'd both seen and overheard that, for he looked a mixture of unimpressed but also oddly self-satisfied at Enguerran's reaction. For once he said nothing of Enguerran being so close to Laurent, though, probably because he was too busy gripping Guion's squirming wife, though neither of them looked particularly the worse for wear for their continuing struggle. Guion sagged at the sight. Laurent wasn't entirely sure whether it was with disappointment that his wife had been found after all, or relief that at least the prince-killer hadn't harmed her.

Laurent ordered for both Guion and his wife to be taken to the cells to join Aimeric. The soldiers of Fortaine who had surrendered would be taken to be restrained as well, but Laurent ordered that they be kept well separate from Guion and his family. They'd already probably been poisoned against Laurent enough without giving Guion more opportunity to whisper in their ears. They might not be as easy to convince to his side as the men of Ravenel. Though Aimeric might have unknowingly done him a favour there as well; Enguerran hadn't been the only one who'd overheard what Aimeric said about the Regent and looked appalled.

As dusk started falling and men continued to stream into Fortaine, Laurent surveyed the results of the fight even as the evidence of it was being cleared away. The dead bodies were mostly clad in armour particular to Barbin, marking them as the reinforcements Laurent's uncle had sent from further north. They would have been ordered not to stop fighting against Laurent no matter what, and certainly wouldn't have been swayed by Guion's worries for his family. But these were not the Regent's guard; they weren't men who had been shown any particular favour, and therefore owed him some particular loyalty. When facing down the inevitability of death, then, most of them had still lowered their own weapons before they would have otherwise been skewered by another man's sword. The dead among Guion's men were only half as numerous as Uncle's men. There were also bodies bearing the starburst and the mark of Akielos as well, but far fewer. Laurent's own men would be buried with honour, and he would show full support for whatever Damen wanted done with his men who'd died on foreign soil.

All in all, there were some eighty or so men dead between all the armies. Laurent couldn't claim it was entirely bloodless, but that was probably as much Guion's fault as anyone's for hesitating those few precious minutes before calling off his people. It was still far better than Laurent had expected, even after Damen had promised he would make it happen.

As night fully fell, Laurent stood up on the battlements and looked over the writhing masses of soldiers beneath him, both inside and outside the walls. Tents were being erected by the thousands. Banners were being hung from the outer walls and the looming towers, even though Laurent hadn't ordered it yet. Fortaine was Laurent's, but everywhere there was evidence that he hadn't taken it alone any more than he had done with Ravenel.

Damen joined him atop the ramparts with little delay.

"The border is yours," Damen announced, like a gift. A courting gift, Laurent's mind automatically suggested. Two key strategic fortresses and more than two thousand soldiers to defend them, with the earlier promise to bring thousands more if Laurent had only agreed to it. Laurent's father would probably have been pleased to know Laurent had attracted such a price, though not quite so thrilled at the fact that the two fortresses in question should already have been under Laurent's purview anyway. Or at the identity of the man who offered them to Laurent, for that matter.

"Yes," Laurent acknowledged. "I'll send more of my men back to Ravenel to help hold it, and a further number out to Acquitart to make sure Uncle doesn't try to secure it in retaliation to prevent me from having full control of the border," Laurent said. "I'll personally stay here at Fortaine for now. At the very least I need to make sure the defences here are well established before I move on. I also need to try to sway Guion's people to my side. There are quite a lot of them to convince," he added pointedly instead of saying 'thank you'.

"I promised there would be," Damen said.

"So you did."

"And you didn't believe me," Damen added.

"I did, actually," Laurent countered, truthfully. "Despite myself, I did. I learned some time ago that you're a man of your word."

"I am," Damen assured him. "And I gave you my word that I would help you win your men over. You have a choice as to how. You could send me away for a time, which might be enough to make your men believe we're not in bed together after all, though I can't promise the rumours won't start up again when we combine forces again to move north and have to spend time strategising. Or you can let me stay with you here in Fortaine, and I can help you fix the underlying problems so that your men will follow you loyally no matter what they think happens between us in privacy."

That would be nice, to not have anyone's opinions swayed one way or the other by what they thought Laurent got up to in bed. It was just a pipedream, but a pleasant one.

"I probably couldn't kick you out of here if I tried," Laurent pointed out. "You've already made a habit of just waltzing into a series of my supposedly secure residences as though you were allowed to be there as a matter of course."

"You could kick me out," Damen admitted. "I'd stay away if you asked, for now. But don't."

"I'm not," sighed Laurent, knowing even as he said it that it was a bad idea. Damen was giving him an out, even if it was a temporary one. He should take it.

Damen smiled. "Good. I'd miss you if you made me go."

So would Laurent, though he couldn't imagine ever admitting such a thing.

"You'd probably just hang around the border of Fortaine looking miserable anyway," Laurent said dismissively. "You might as well make yourself useful instead."

"Does that mean you're going to actually accept my help?" Damen asked.

"I did that as soon as I allied with you," Laurent reminded him. 

"Did you really?" Damen asked softly. "You accepted my soldiers, and even then it was grudgingly. But me? You made sure I could be under no illusions. I was just a necessary evil attached to the army you wanted. And you were attacking me just a week ago instead of accepting my help then. You were almost ready to kill me over it."

"Notice that you're still alive."

"Does that mean you've decided not to fight me anymore?" asked Damen.

"Don't pretend you don't enjoy it," said Laurent. They'd both miss the bickering as much as the other conversations, he thought.

"You're not wrong there," Damen admitted ruefully. "But you know, when you say things like that, it makes me think that what you really mean is that you don't want me to stop pursuing you, even though you keep saying that I should leave you alone. Sometimes I feel like you don't know your own heart. But I think I do." Damen pressed his palm over Laurent's chest, feeling the racing beat of it. The warmth of that contact somehow felt nearly hot enough to burn, even through Laurent's layers of clothing. Damen drew closer still, until Laurent could feel the radiating heat of more of him than just his hand. Laurent shivered.

"Don't," Laurent warned, and Damen stopped moving, but didn't remove his hand. Laurent should have stopped talking there, and left it at a blanket denial. Instead, Laurent found himself adding, "We can't afford to give any of my men who might happen to glance upwards or come past while patrolling the levels any suggestion that their suspicions might be warranted."

Damen nodded in agreement. He closed his eyes and breathed Laurent in deeply, but he didn't move any closer. Anyone who was looking would likely have been able to see the stars through the sustained gap between their bodies. They probably wouldn't have been able to see the slight way Laurent shook against the effort of sustaining that distance, though, thankfully. But Damen, through the single point at which they were touching, could surely have felt it.

"I'd offer to find us some privacy," Damen finally said, and he must have felt the uptick in Laurent's heartbeat under his hand, "but I'm not sure now is really the best time for that." He didn't say why.

"Don't act like I need you to make decisions for me to protect my supposed virtue," Laurent said contemptuously. "I'm not some innocent virgin."

Laurent had expected Damen would either put up some further token protest or, more likely, give in as soon as Laurent provided even the slightest indication that he might be willing. Instead, Damen's face went abruptly thunderous, so much that even from a distance no one would have been able to miss it. They might have seen it from the ground level, had anyone actually been looking after all. As it was, the only one to witness it was Laurent.

The only other time Damen had turned on a copper sol from calm to angry like that had been when Laurent had first brought up his uncle's influence in Ios. Damen's rage then had been foolish, considering Laurent was only telling the truth, but it was at least understandable in the context of Damen's ridiculous sense of honour and trust. This, however, seemed inexplicable. 

Laurent almost recoiled. Damen actually did, pulling his hand back from Laurent as if he'd been the one who'd ended up burned by the heat of contact.

"Who?" Damen asked darkly.

Laurent hoped it didn't show how taken aback he was just then.

" _Who was it_?" Damen pressed when no answer arrived swiftly enough.

It still took Laurent a moment longer to understand Damen's meaning. Then it was Laurent's turn to have his expression cloud over. 

"So much for acting like you don't agree with Vere's double standards for Omegas and Alphas," Laurent said spitefully. "Even if I had given you any reason to believe you had a right to act like a possessive brute, you can't possibly be jealous over something that happened well before I met you. I'm twenty years old. You can hardly have expected that I would still be some snow white paragon of purity."

"No. That's not what… You…" Damen's fists were clenched. 

"What's the matter?" Laurent mocked venomously. "Are you only interested as long as you believe no one else got there first?"

" _Laurent_."

Something about his tone brought the tirade Laurent might otherwise have launched into to a halt before it even really gained momentum. Damen's face was still unmistakably furious, but there was a strange plaintive note to the way he said Laurent's name. Laurent didn't quite know how to handle the juxtaposition of it.

Eventually Damen offered, seemingly apropos of nothing, "You may not think you want my protection, but you have it all the same."

Then Damen abruptly left, doing what Laurent could only describe as stalking away, looking like he dearly wanted to go find something to punch. Hopefully he'd settle on a wall as his target, not one of the men. 

Laurent was bewildered. Sadly that wasn't exactly a new feeling for him when it came to Damen acting in ways that Laurent didn't quite expect or understand, but this felt different somehow. Laurent's chest felt strangely hollow from it in a way he hadn't felt before.

As Laurent stood alone on the parapets, looking over the pristine fortress of which he'd just become the new master, all Laurent could focus on was how that strange sensation behind his ribs slowly faded as he breathed in the still wafting smell of Alpha, strong and virile and oddly protective. Laurent might as well have been inhaling _chalis_ , given how dizzy it made him feel.

In fact, he felt off balance, and overly warm, and, he realised, it wasn't just from the way Damen had briefly touched him.

Oh.

Damn it.

Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why you shouldn't forget about important conversations, Laurent. Damen certainly didn't.
> 
> Sorry if there are any Aimeric or Jord/Aimeric supporters hereabouts, but this chapter is likely the only time you'll see Aimeric. I seriously have no time for him. Yes, I feel sorry for him for having the Regent abuse him when he was younger, but even fourteen year old Nicaise, who was entirely in the Regent's power for several years right up until his death, made better choices than Aimeric as an adult did. I'm not really a fan.
> 
> On a nicer note, though, I promise if you're reading into those last few sentences, this time, unlike during Chapter 13, I'm not accidentally getting your hopes up for nothing.


	21. Chapter 21

Over the past few weeks, Laurent had begun to think that there would finally be no need for any real sense of panic when his heat approached again. Now he found it was coming on a week earlier than he'd expected, but that in itself shouldn't have been overly alarming. After all, Paschal had informed him years ago, when he was sixteen and the whole palace seemed to be waiting with baited breath for some sign that Laurent's first heat might be on its way soon, that the timing was never exact; heat could be brought forward or delayed for any number of reasons. Grief had been one of several explanations he listed, and had clearly been the most relevant to Laurent at the time. Sudden changes in proximity to compatible pheromones had been another, Laurent recalled now. 

It was no secret to Laurent what in particular might have affected the timing of this heat.

But the change in timing still shouldn't have been too much of a problem. He had capable Betas to guard him, and even if they were outnumbered by the Alphas, the Alphas would be more interested in fighting each other anyway if Laurent's scent should somehow travel that far. More importantly, Laurent had had Ravenel at his disposal for weeks, and he was now inside the even more heavily fortified walls of Fortaine. He was as safe as he could hope to be. 

And yet it felt like his internal walls were somehow lowered, and that seemed even more dangerous than when he'd been pushing his horse relentlessly towards Acquitart with no guarantee that he would make it there unchallenged.

Staying here wasn't safe at all, Laurent couldn't help but think. Not like this.

It would make no sense for Laurent to ride the entire width of the border to get to Acquitart, like he'd had to the last time. But Ravenel, on the other hand? Fortaine seemed the better option on paper, with its inner doors that were thick enough to at least somewhat muffle scents travelling both to and from Laurent, as well as those doors being reinforced enough to make it more difficult for Alphas to batter down the barrier if it really came to that. But since they'd packed up most of their armies and ridden for Fortaine, Ravenel currently had one strong drawcard that Fortaine didn't: far fewer Alphas in residence. And, more importantly, a complete lack of one particular Alpha. 

Laurent was under no illusions. If his body had reacted enough to put itself into heat early, how would it react once heat really began and it became clear that the attempt to secure the prospective Alpha had up until that point been unsuccessful? It had been one thing to suffer through a heat in Acquitart, with no Alpha scents for miles as far as Laurent could tell, and therefore nothing to strain towards in the worst hours of it. In the hallways of Fortaine, by contrast, it was a constant assault on Laurent's senses, and even though they'd only taken the castle mere hours earlier, it still seemed like no matter where Laurent walked he could still pick out traces of one particularly appealing scent. Even discarding his clothes from the day and bathing himself stringently, in case contact had transferred the scent onto him rather than it merely being around him, hadn't helped. It was like it had somehow permeated Laurent's whole existence.

Laurent had to put some distance between Damen and himself if he wanted to escape this with his sanity intact. What use would it be to avoid being bred and disgraced by whatever mercenary Alphas Uncle would love to send for him if he was only going to sucker himself into choosing one to do it instead? Ravenel would keep Laurent safe, he thought. From himself, if need be.

Laurent had gone as far as to discreetly send for several Beta guards who were loyal and fast riders to meet him outside as dawn was just starting to break. He was, in fact, all the way to standing beside his horse in the courtyard, ready to mount and ride through the gates any moment now. They would have to push the horses, but Laurent knew they could make it in time.

That was assuming they got moving east as quickly as possible. Only Laurent was having difficulty making himself actually do that. 

If this was the kind of magnetic pull Laurent had on Alphas, he might have to reconsider scorning it. Laurent could put his foot in the stirrup and swing himself onto the horse's back, but it was almost as though Laurent had physically frozen the moment he thought about digging his heels into the horse's side and sending it into a canter out the gate. Instinct was clearly taking over. His body was already staging a protest, saying: no, this is not the time you should be riding half the country away from your Alpha. 

Laurent didn't _have_ an Alpha, of course, and never would. If only his body would get that message and let him do what he so desperately needed to.

He sat there unmoving, struggling against himself, for so long that his men graduated from uncertain whispers to fully-fledged discussion about what could possibly be wrong with their Prince. He was there long enough, in fact, that word that he seemed to be preparing to ride out must have reached the inner halls of Fortaine.

"Where are you going?" Damen asked as he emerged into the courtyard, eyeing Laurent warily. Laurent knew from the way he'd pulled away from Laurent the night before that he'd already smelled what was coming on him. It was less certain whether Damen knew what Laurent now intended and why. Though probably it was obvious. 

Damen approached cautiously, as if worried about spooking the horse. But it clearly wasn't the animal that Damen thought was likely to be skittish. He reached out and took hold of the bridle. Laurent's whole body relaxed into the saddle once Damen drew near enough for his scent to freshly wash over Laurent. Laurent's horse's reins fell slack in his hands without a thought. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Laurent concluded, and climbed down from the horse. There was a scuffle of confusion from Laurent's men, but Laurent ignored them in favour of walking back towards the castle entrance. Damen followed close at his heels.

Almost as much to combat his visceral reaction to Damen's closeness as in response to his continued bitterness from the previous night, Laurent asked, "What do you care? Aren't you still busy bemoaning the fact that you'll never get to break me in?"

Damen almost looked like he was going to say something, perhaps even to explain himself, but then it was as if he thought better of it. He shook his head. "I care," he eventually insisted. "You shouldn't leave Fortaine right now. It's not safe."

Laurent looked at Damen speculatively then. His obvious concern, though irritating in light of his mystifying behaviour the previous evening, could be useful. "True. And why should I go anywhere? This is my fortress. I'll stay right here. _You_ need to leave," Laurent insisted.

It would be easier to stop himself from going after Damen than to actively make himself ride away, surely.

"You said I could stay," Damen reminded him.

"A few days absence won't hurt you, more's the pity," Laurent pointed out. "You're a prince. You must have things you could be doing other than hanging around here. I'm sure Nikandros would love to take you back over the border and away from here for a while."

Nikandros was probably just as unwilling to have Laurent and Damen in the same castle during Laurent's heat as Laurent himself was. Laurent would probably be enlisting his help right now for that reason, if only he actually thought there was any chance that Damen would choose now to listen to Nikandros's counsel.

Damen said, unimpressed, "You think I should ride off for some leisure weekend in Delpha while you're in heat miles away inside a fortress filled with Alphas who used to serve nobles who were loyal to your uncle, and who may or may not be trustworthy themselves." Damen sighed. "Laurent, this is one of those times when you're being –"

Laurent interrupted, "If you say the words 'emotional' or 'irrational' or anything like them at any point in this conversation, I will cut something off you that you won't like to lose."

"Right. Clearly it's nothing like that at all," Damen said disbelievingly. "But I'm still not going anywhere."

"Why should it matter to you? You're not going to be allowed near enough to me to do anything to stop an attack anyway," Laurent reminded him.

"I'm not leaving you alone," Damen asserted.

"Not even when I tell you to? You've changed your tune. If that's the case, if I need protection at all, it's surely from you," Laurent accused.

"I didn't mean I meant to bed you," Damen countered. "You've made the consequences of doing that clear enough. I'll guard the hall and not set foot any closer than that unless it's necessary to protect you."

Much like Laurent had once imagined Auguste would have done. Laurent did his best to shake that thought off.

"You really think I'm going to trust you that close to me during heat?" Laurent asked.

"You can," Damen promised. "I won't touch you."

"You won't be able to stop yourself," Laurent declared.

Laurent probably wouldn't be able to stop himself if Damen was that close either, he didn't say.

"That's exactly what your people will think," Damen claimed. "That I wouldn't be able to stop myself if there was anything between us and I was physically that close to you during heat. But when I can, how will they interpret that?"

That… was surprisingly clever, actually. If only it actually had the slightest chance of working.

"The obvious problem with disproving the rumours by manifestly _not_ bedding me even during my heat is that you _won't_ be able to resist," Laurent insisted.

"Of course I will. I'm not about to force myself on you, even during heat. You have no idea how strong the Alpha drive to protect an Omega is," Damen said.

What if he wouldn't be forcing himself on Laurent at all, though? What if Laurent were begging for it, the way Uncle had always claimed he would be? The way Laurent had always liked to imagine he'd never find himself driven to do, no matter what.

"An Alpha tried to attack me during my very first heat," Laurent said instead. "The instinct is clearly not that strong."

"Is that when…" Damen clenched his jaw, stopping himself. "Is he dead?" Damen asked, too evenly.

"Not everyone can fend me off with as much ease as you when I try to stick a knife in them," Laurent said. "He's dead. He bled out on the ground before he could even get his cock out. Just like you will if you come near me once I'm in heat, by the way. You wanted a warning before I kill you? There it is. So it's in your best interests to stay away."

Damen looked strangely confused, as if he'd thought he understood something but what Laurent was saying didn't quite make sense to him. Join the club, thought Laurent. "The men of your kingdom are apparently even weaker-willed than I thought to not be willing to control themselves even when it's their _Prince_ they'd be attacking," Damen finally said scornfully.

"If you recall, your supposedly fierce Akielon warriors would likely have all killed each other just for the privilege of being the one to fuck me as soon as they caught the scent of my heat when I was in your camp," Laurent snapped. "It's got nothing to do with being strong-willed. All Alphas are driven by instinct in the end."

Damen looked disgusted. "I'm not sure what cowards have been telling you such things, but it has _everything_ to do with will. Alphas can certainly resist Omegas, even in heat, if they're motivated enough. An Omega's heat sorts the wheat from the chaff. Are we likely to erupt into a brawl with each other if an Omega goes into heat in the middle of a crowd of Alphas? Yes. You're right: you'd have had my camp in Akielos torn apart without even lifting a finger if you'd remained there a few more days. Is there a pressing instinct to take a heated Omega to bed and tie with him again and again for days? Of course there is, and anyone who tries to tell you it's easy to resist that has never experienced it personally. But would most Alphas see an Omega in heat who clearly doesn't want them, or worse, is _afraid_ of them, and just force themselves on him anyway? Just the thought of it makes me ill. Anyone who would do that deserves neither the label of 'Alpha' or 'man'."

Laurent didn't know whether to believe him. Oh, Laurent believed that Damen thought it was true; he'd have been able to tell if Damen was lying. But lying and self-delusion were different things altogether. 

However, if it _was_ true, and if the cruel things the courtiers gossiped over, and that Laurent's uncle had whispered into his thirteen-year-old ears like honeyed warnings, were even somewhat exaggerated, that changed things.

"How would you of all people know that, anyway?" Laurent asked, his voice slightly unsteady. "I bet no one's ever told you 'no' in your life, Omegas included. You've never _had_ to resist anyone."

"You've told me no, many times," Damen pointed out. "Not in heat. Not yet. But I know how strong the draw of heat is, and I know it still wouldn't be enough to make me hurt you. It shouldn't be enough to drive your men to do so either. I would turn off any soldiers who didn't possess enough determination to exercise that level of control. So should you."

Laurent pointed out derisively, "I'm hardly about to test their strength and loyalty by inviting them close enough to determine whether they can resist me when my time comes."

Damen's growl was audible as he reflexively grabbed Laurent's wrist. "No. That would be a bad idea."

"If Alphas really can restrain themselves, then do it now," Laurent ordered, staring down at the single point of contact between them. It radiated warmth, but it wasn't the welcome kind, as had been the case with the hand on Laurent's chest last night. "Don't touch me."

"All right," Damen agreed, letting go immediately. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, you won't mean to, will you?" Laurent said dryly. "But that won't stop you."

"It will," Damen swore. "I would protect you, no matter what, even from myself. I'm not about to live up to whatever ridiculous perceptions of Alpha-Omega interactions your country has been filling your head with. I'll never touch you unless you want me to."

Laurent secretly thought that him wanting Damen to might be exactly the problem.

Laurent didn't agree that Damen could stand as his guard, but he didn't keep insisting that Damen had to leave Fortaine, either. Though he _did_ insist that Damen stop following him so that Laurent could take himself off to the privacy of his rooms, where he could properly think.

Laurent would have trusted Auguste to do as Damen suggested, he recalled. That trust would have been on the basis that Auguste was strong-willed enough to resist the lure of an Omega's scent, not because he was Laurent's brother. Some of the more scandalous court gossip suggested that familial relationships weren't always enough to stop the heavy press of instinct between Alphas and Omegas, and Laurent himself was too cognisant that blood could be an insufficient deterrent to doubt those rumours. So had he still been right to assume Auguste would have been able to stop himself and simply protect Laurent? Was being a good man really enough to override such overwhelming Alpha instincts?

Laurent liked to think so. But trust and supposition weren't proof. And proof was what he needed right now.

Auguste had been singular in many ways, but Laurent couldn't really be positive that was one of them. And even if Laurent recently kept finding himself in the odd position of comparing Damen to Auguste and not having Damen come off as inferior, that alone didn't mean Damen was necessarily capable of something that Laurent had only imagined Auguste would be able to do. There was no real evidence that it was possible for an Alpha to exercise that much restraint in the first place. It might have been just Laurent's wishful thinking.

But then Laurent's mind flashed back to Orlant's ribald story about Jord and the boy outside the stables. He'd thought at the time that it was Alpha posturing. A case of 'look how strong and macho we are, we're even strong enough to fight nature itself'. He hadn't thought it possible, given what he thought he knew then. But if Jord had really managed, with an Omega in heat draped all over him, to push that Omega away and send for someone to collect him and take him to the safety of his own rooms inside Arles, that would lend credence to Damen's claims.

Laurent called Jord to his rooms, though he left the door to the hallway full of Beta guards open just in case he was wrong about how long he had before his scent sweetened into something that was, according to everyone but Damen, and possibly Orlant, supposed to be absolutely irresistible to Alphas like Jord. 

"Your Highness," Jord greeted. "Fortaine is secure. I'll oversee everything personally for the next few days. You have no need to worry." Obviously he could smell just as well as Damen what was coming if he already knew that Laurent was going to be out of commission for days.

"I'm sure you'll do so admirably," Laurent said, and he could have sworn Jord actually blushed at that, similar to the way Enguerran had yesterday. "I asked you here for a more personal favour of sorts, however. You're clearly aware my heat is upon me again. I require your assistance on a matter of some delicacy."

If Jord had been blushing, it was gone in an instant, replaced by the whiteness of shock. "I… You can't mean you're asking me to… Your Highness, while I'd be _deeply_ honoured to serve you in whatever way you asked of me, I'm far too much below you to ever –"

" _No_ ," Laurent interrupted as soon as he realised what Jord was getting at, almost as mortified as Jord himself. He couldn't even imagine taking Jord into his bed, heat or no heat. Or any Alpha at all, ever, he tried to pointedly remind himself, but he couldn't make himself believe a word of it at this stage. "No. That's really not what I meant. I only would like for you to tell me something about your own experiences, though only if you're willing. I understand you've been in close quarters with an Omega in heat."

"Oh," Jord said, and relaxed considerably. "Yes, once. Close quarters is one way to put it. Orlant can't keep his mouth shut for anything, can he?"

"You came off well in the telling, at least," Laurent commended. "You resisted taking advantage of the Omega's willingness, is that right?"

"With difficulty," Jord admitted. "But yes."

"I'd like your honest assessment about whether you would have been able to continue to resist had you stayed in the Omega's vicinity for hours, or days, rather than just minutes," Laurent said.

Many of Laurent's other soldiers could have been expected to bluster and talk themselves up. Jord, on the other hand, didn't seem to understand how to give an assessment that _wasn't_ honest. It was for that reason, not anything to do with his reaction or lack of it to Omegas, as Huet apparently believed, that Laurent had chosen him as Captain. Laurent had been so firmly entrenched in deceit and doublespeak for years that it paid to have someone to turn to who was reliably straightforward and truthful.

"Most likely," Jord finally concluded after some thought. "I wouldn't quite swear by it if he'd continued actually touching me for all of that time, but if it had been the nearness and the scent alone? I think I could have managed, yes."

Laurent nodded. "Thank you. That's all," he dismissed.

Perhaps the abruptness of the conversation's end reminded Jord of the last time they'd spoken of personal matters, for he suddenly looked some mixture of understanding and horrified. Apparently it had occurred to him to wonder why Laurent might ask such a thing. "But I wouldn't trust just any Alpha to be near you," Jord quickly amended. "It's difficult to resist. They'd have to _really_ want to not take advantage."

"Yes," Laurent said. "Only a very honourable man could manage such a thing. I understand your meaning perfectly."

Jord left the room when Laurent bid him to, though he did so looking like he was walking to the execution block, as if he'd just said something that might turn out to be the greatest regret of his life.

Laurent, however, was increasingly convinced that he could find a way to do this without regretting it. Even if Laurent's men didn't take Damen being in close proximity without fucking Laurent through his heat to mean Laurent wasn't bending over for him under normal circumstances either, there would be potentially still be something important to gain from testing Damen's resolve now, when there were lockable doors and stone walls and a hallway full of guards posted for the exact purpose of driving off heat-mad Alphas. They would have to start marching north soon enough. Laurent's next heat might not be in the relative safety of a fortress with all of those benefits easily to hand. It would be better to know what he really faced as far as Damen was concerned before such a time came.

Still, his sense of self-preservation was warning him that it was reckless when he invited Damen to his rooms soon after Jord had left. But Laurent's rational side had weighed it up and come up in favour of this actually somehow being the smart move, despite all appearances. All the while the Omega part of his nature oriented toward Damen the same way Laurent's men had to Laurent in the immediate aftermath of heat. Laurent ignored that last part as best as he could.

"You will come no further than the opposite end of the hall from my rooms while I'm indisposed," Laurent told him when he arrived. 

Damen's smile was overpowering. "Yes," he readily agreed, looking more thrilled than Laurent had ever seen him. From another man that might have made Laurent second-guess himself, but there was nothing calculating about it; nothing to suggest that Damen was thinking how much easier it would be to get to Laurent now that Laurent had allowed him at least that close.

"If you try to come through the door, my other guards will…" Laurent wanted (or at least desperately wished he wanted) to say 'kill you'. "Knock you unconscious and tie you up," he finished instead.

"I promise," Damen said. Then he glanced about the room. "Unless someone crawls up through your window, obviously."

Laurent rolled his eyes and reached over and locked the window shut. "Better?"

"Much. Though if I hear breaking glass, I'll assume it's someone coming through the closed window and take my chances with your guards. So maybe don't drop any fragile cups over the next few days." 

"You're an idiot," Laurent informed him. "And you're seriously tempting my patience."

"I'm thinking through all the possibilities," Damen countered. "Isn't that what you always do?" 

"Currently I'm thinking about the possibility of having you hogtied and thrown out the gates if you don't get out of my room now," Laurent informed him. 

Damen reached out and touched Laurent's cheek. Laurent would have slapped his hand away if it had lingered longer than a second, or so he told himself.

"I'll see you in a few days," Damen said.

"And no sooner," Laurent reminded him, "or you'll be made to regret it."

As soon as Damen went through the door, part of Laurent wanted to call him back. Instead he shoved that instinct down and called one last visitor into his room. The highest ranked of Laurent's Beta soldiers, Charibert, looked very taken aback to be told that Prince Damianos would be joining the Guard outside Laurent's rooms for the next few days. Though he looked mollified, even gratified, when Laurent gave him and the other guards permission to smack Damen's head against the stone wall a few times if he made any decisive movement towards Laurent's rooms. Laurent had the impression that Charibert was dying to take Damen so much as breathing wrong as a sign that he was moving in Laurent's direction, just so that he could be justified in hitting him a few times. 

The last request Laurent made of him prompted an uncertain look, but a nod. Laurent had a feeling that the contents of the request would make its way into common gossip within minutes. He wondered whether the other soldiers would know what to make of it any more than Charibert seemed to."

But Laurent got the manacle and chain he'd asked for, so he supposed any gossip was worth it. 

Laurent placed a knife within easy reach before he secured the chain to the wall. He hesitated with the manacle in his hand for a long moment before securing it to his left wrist. He'd like to think he wouldn't need it, but if he did, then by the time he needed to be restrained he'd have probably have lost the wherewithal to reach for the manacle and snap it closed. Better to do it now, even if it turned out to be unnecessary. Laurent left his other hand free to defend himself if needed. 

From then, Laurent still had three whole hours to wait before the signs worsened into full-blown heat. He'd thought at the time that those three hours were torture. In retrospect, he looked back on them fondly by comparison.

His third heat hit much harder than the previous two, as if his body was responding to all the extra Alpha pheromones in the air. It wasn't unexpected, considering the early onset of the heat. Though that didn't make it any less frustrating that Laurent's body was stupid enough to make some vain attempt to attract an Alpha to his side during heat when it wasn't what Laurent himself really wanted.

At Acquitart, he'd had the repeated thought that if there'd just been some whiff of Alpha presence around, Laurent could have fooled himself into thinking he was getting what he really needed. He couldn't have been more wrong. At Fortaine it seemed to waft in through the window, for all that it was tightly shut. It came down the hallway and through the closed door, thick as it was. And there were most certainly traces of scent still remaining inside the room itself, most freshly from Damen, which was a whole other layer of problems. Instead of settling him into complacency in combination with Laurent's attempts to take care of his own needs, the Alpha scent made those attempts seem more unfulfilling than ever. Laurent strained towards climax, again and again, and couldn't quite get there because a hand around his cock and fingers reaching for the sensitive core of himself weren't what he really needed by far. He could tell that what he needed was nearby. The scent was taunting him.

By a few hours into the heat, it had him literally clawing to get to the source of it.

The manacle chaffed at his skin and caused deep bruises to blossom as he threw all his weight in opposition to it, reaching for the door, before finally collapsing back onto the mattress when the strength of his legs gave out long before the strength of the iron links of the chain ever would have. He'd have crawled for the door at that point if he could, pride be damned, but in truth Laurent barely had enough slack to lie on the hard stone floor on that side of the mattress, let alone move any further. Stymied, Laurent made a frustrated sound that must have carried.

Laurent pictured Damen outside, without even a chain to stop him. Laurent's persistent lack of satisfaction would be a sharp tang on the air, inducing Damen with every breath to want to go help remedy Laurent's problem and turn that scent to one of languid satisfaction, at least for several long-awaited minutes before heat inevitably drove Laurent right back into overeagerness. Damen must have been gripping at the indents of the stone wall for leverage, biting into his lip to distract himself from what he'd have known was behind the nearby door to Laurent's rooms. His hand would have remained on the pommel of his sword in case it was needed against intruding Alphas, but at the same time that grip would have generated a constant temptation to draw his weapon and cut down the Betas who would oppose him on his way to Laurent. 

Laurent could imagine it only too vividly. The door would burst open and Damen, skin flushed and broad shoulders heaving from having to fight his way through the Beta guards, would stand in the doorway for just a moment, the picture of a victorious Alpha coming to claim his prize. That idea shouldn't have appealed to Laurent, but right then it _really_ did. 

Damen would take a moment to bask in his first ever sight of Laurent naked and wanting, but the angry red of Laurent's painfully still-hard cock would quickly act as a wordless order to step in and actually do something about the tableau in front of him. For once Damen would heed a mandate of Laurent's, crossing the room in only a few long strides. He would be made almost as desperate by the sight and scent as Laurent had been for hours on end now. Laurent would strain towards him until the security and the promise of Damen's weight finally settled against him. Damen's chiton would be discarded in a matter of moments, and then Laurent would have Damen bare on top of him, those lovely muscles tensed with the effort of still holding himself back, even now that he was right here in the room with Laurent. He'd want to make sure Laurent was ready for him first, after all, before he gave in to his own desires.

Those large blunt fingers would trace down Laurent's sweat-slicked chest, taking a moment to circle his sensitive peaked nipple before a sharp pinch to it would send Laurent's back arching off the bed, towards the source of that sensation. Laurent would cry out, and Damen would kiss him to swallow his frantic noises, too greedy for Laurent's pleasure to willingly allow the evidence of it to be overheard by anyone else.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand would work down Laurent's belly, pausing at the pulse point, where the rapid beat would let him know for sure just how much his closeness affected Laurent, as if Laurent's hardness weren't proof enough. Damen would eventually reluctantly abandon the way he was swirling his fingertips around the softness near the join of Laurent's hips in favour of moving his fingers onwards. Without warning he would circle his warm hand around Laurent's oversensitive cock in a way that would result in a brief keening noise forcing itself from Laurent's throat. Damen would give the shaft a few light strokes, as if to make sure that it was in fact fully hard. As if Laurent could be anything less than entirely aroused at that stage. Then he'd give Laurent one last squeeze, with a teasing press of his thumb to the tip that would send Laurent wild for a moment, before reaching down further still. There he would find that Laurent was not only more than well-slicked enough, but that he'd already spent hours opening himself up. He was beyond ready.

"Ask me to touch you," Damen would insist, and a whine would get half-caught in Laurent's throat in complaint about Damen making him put a voice to it. But even (especially) during heat, Damen would have to be sure. They both would.

"Fuck me," Laurent would implore, and Damen wouldn't hesitate any further once that request had been so bluntly uttered. 

Laurent had never seen Damen hard, but he'd been able to imagine it. He'd done little but envision how it would look for hours already at that point, and that was only today, never mind the many nights since Damen's tournament wrestling match, when he'd dreamed of Damen naked and bucking against Laurent's equally naked skin. In his excitement, Damen would be proportionally large, and thick enough to cause Laurent just the slightest spark of soreness, even after having worked four fingers tirelessly but uselessly inside himself for hours. The first breach would cause Laurent to tense against the slow slide of it. Damen would smooth a soothing hand over Laurent's forehead, wiping away the trickles of heated sweat, and place kisses to Laurent's neck to encourage him until Laurent relaxed bonelessly into his arms, breathing the equally reassuring and rousing aroma of Damen in deeply. 

The second thrust would be sharper, more targeted, and would make Laurent yelp, though not in discomfort or protest. Damen was experienced. He would hear it and know that it meant Laurent wanted more, right there, not for him to stop. Laurent would have had too little strength in his leg muscles by that stage to do more than just give himself over to it utterly and move along with the pace Damen set. It would be hard to complain that he couldn't take a more active role in steering their movements himself, though, when Damen would already be finally giving Laurent what his body had cried for across the hours; what he'd wanted for far longer than that, if he were brutally honest with himself. 

The build to orgasm wouldn't be gradual, as it might have been outside of heat if Laurent had his way. It would be careening, and Laurent would have trouble gasping in a breath from the intensity of his body striving for more, more, more. He would hate being so out of control, but at the same time part of him would love it, and would want to give into it without question when it felt that good.

The swelling of the knot would take Laurent by surprise, as if Damen's cock being finally inside him had felt good enough to make him forget what he _really_ wanted and needed, most of all. But as soon as that tightness started growing, Laurent would be sent wild with it. He'd scratch his fingernails encouragingly down Damen's back, causing him to give a particularly hard thrust forward, burying himself fully, arching away from the pain and into Laurent where Laurent might by contrast have moved back towards the sharp sensation.

The knot would catch, then, and Laurent would scream Damen's name as his whole body seized up and shuddered with the relief of it. Damen would catch Laurent's spend in his fingers and bring it to his lips for a taste, and the sight would only make Laurent tremble even more helplessly, his body buffeted by the sensation of Damen coming inside him, pulse after pulse.

Damen's arms would wrap around him, the warmth and pressure keeping Laurent from breaking into pieces in the aftermath, and words filled with emotion would be whispered in Laurent's ear. 

That would be nothing like how it would be outside of heat, Laurent knew. He couldn't imagine he would ever give in so fully without the urges of heat pushing him into it. But then, it would never really happen outside heat at all, or during heat either, Laurent reminded himself, so that hardly mattered. 

Laurent came back to himself briefly to find his own hand around his cock, _finally_ covered in come, while his other hand was four fingers deep inside him, curled to poorly mimic a knot.

And it still wasn't enough, even if he'd at last managed to trick his body into this one temporary respite. It had been a barely sufficient approximation of what Laurent actually wanted, when the real thing was so close by. Laurent could still have that, if he could just get to Damen and let him know that he'd changed his mind; that he knew it would be so good between them that he wanted it more than anything, and damn the consequences. 

In his more lucid moments, he remembered why those consequences were so important, and not worth a few hours of pleasure-soaked abandon. And in his mindless moments, when he shouted for Damen, begging aloud despite his prior coherent intentions not to do that, there was the chain, holding him in place no matter how much he struggled against it.

Laurent could only writhe in the damp sheets, wet with slick and sweat and even a few frustrated tears, and wish for long unfulfilled minutes that Damen were a less honourable man after all, or that Laurent himself had been less rational and strict in his precautions.

But the chain held. And Laurent's door remained closed.

Even in a castle full of Alphas, and with Damen in particular close enough that his fresh scent made its way into the room in waves, Laurent still made it through his heat without actually being fucked by an Alpha, as much as his body might have wanted it. That made three times now that he'd gotten through it intact, even despite the odds. Three times wasn't a coincidence. It wasn't luck. Laurent could do this, again and again if he had to, even if right now it felt like a physical impossibility for his body to go through this level of exhausting dissatisfaction more than once and still survive it.

When Laurent finally emerged fully from the haze of heat after some indeterminate amount of time spent reaching for an edge that he too rarely managed to make himself topple over, Laurent felt like his whole being had been left in tatters, though the only real injuries to his body were his chaffed wrist and a vicious bite to his arm just inches above the shackle, which had been made partly out of the aggravation of being restrained and partly in a vain attempt to silence himself. All it had actually earned him was the unpleasant taste of copper in his mouth and a throbbing pain in his forearm to match the lower hurt in his wrist.

There was the sound of a scuffle outside the door, then, which Laurent had half-expected (and simultaneously craved and dreaded) during the height of heat. He hadn't thought it would come now, though, when Laurent's drive and therefore scent were mostly lapsing into quiescence.

"Your useless nose might not be able to smell that it's over, but I assure you, I'm no threat to him now," Laurent heard Damen say from outside the door. "He's in pain. Let me in, before I visit that pain on you tenfold for letting your Prince suffer needlessly." There was the sound of something hitting the wall, but Laurent doubted it was actually Damen's head, in accordance with Laurent's orders. It might have been another guard's back, though, as a result of Damen throwing whoever was holding him back out of his way. He might tear through half Laurent's guards if he decided he really wanted to. Or more than half of them. That had always been a concern, from the moment Laurent had started thinking seriously about allowing his presence. That was why the knife was close at hand. Laurent wanted to believe Damen could control himself, but he couldn't wholly rely on it.

Damen had managed, though. It wasn't the mindless call of Laurent's heat that was motivating him into action now.

"Let him in before he knocks the door down," Laurent instructed loudly but tiredly as he dragged a thin sheet up over his otherwise naked body to provide himself with some illusion of modesty. "And give him the key."

Damen didn't pause inside the door, the way he had in Laurent's imagination. Instead he walked steadily towards Laurent and then slipped onto his knees beside where Laurent was sprawled on the bed, putting himself as close to Laurent as he could be without joining him on the mattress. It was odd seeing Damen on his knees for anything, especially for Laurent's sake. Laurent couldn't imagine doing such a thing willingly himself, and he doubted Damen would have responded well if Laurent had actually asked it of him. But under his own steam, at least in these specific circumstances, Damen was apparently willing to put himself in that position so that he could better attend to Laurent, almost as a servant might have, though more tenderly, and in a way that made Laurent react as he never had to any servant. Damen reached for Laurent's manacled wrist but paused without actually touching Laurent, waiting for permission. Laurent nodded tersely, and Damen, with the key he'd obtained from Charibert or whoever the lead Guard on duty currently was, removed the iron from Laurent's wrist. He tossed the metal away as if he found it distasteful. Damen's fingers traced gently over the now unveiled bruises before Laurent jerked his hand away.

"You're being presumptuous," Laurent said. "I certainly didn't invite you to curl up beside my bed like a dog."

"I'd definitely be curled up _in_ your bed if I were nothing more than a pet," Damen countered.

The use of the word 'pet' conjured an image of Damen dolled up like the pets of Arles. It wouldn't suit him, Laurent decided. He looked much better like this, a prince rather than a pet, but still on his knees either way. Only for Laurent, though. Damen didn't kneel to other men. Laurent wouldn't want him to.

"I'm safe from attack by now, and I'm uncuffed," Laurent pointed out. "I have no further need of you."

"You can kick me out, if you like," Damen offered.

That sounded less appealing than Laurent might have expected, to be honest. "I'm too tired to go to the effort of kicking you anywhere," Laurent admitted. 

Laurent felt himself shivering, as if his body were protesting that there was an external source of heat right there that Laurent was refusing to take advantage of. The aftereffects were all around worse this time, probably because the heat had been more intense and even less fulfilling than Laurent's previous two. But much like with the heat itself, Damen could probably have significantly reduced the ill effects if only Laurent would let him. Damen might have pushed himself up onto the mattress after all and curled his body against Laurent's, and that would have doubtless helped combat the sudden coldness Laurent was experiencing. The shivers would probably have died away almost instantaneously then.

"You're all right," Damen soothed verbally instead, for it was the only kind of support Laurent would allow from him.

"Of course I am," Laurent scoffed. "I don't know how many times I've told you this now, but I can look after myself. I don't need an Alpha to take care of me. I managed just fine on my own, as you can see."

"Yes, you're an absolute picture of good health right now," Damen said dryly.

Laurent knew how he must have looked. He'd propelled himself into exhaustion and still been unable to stop. Even though he had received precious little pleasure to justify his continued efforts, he hadn't been able to give them up as useless. His body wouldn't let him. So there had been no sleep, and little relief. 

In short, Laurent probably looked even more tired and stiff than Damen did after spending three straight days propped against a stone wall on watch, refusing to take a break just in case something happened in his absence. Laurent knew he hadn't left at any point for the comfort of his own bed because Laurent's sense of Damen's nearness had barely deviated all throughout his heat. Damen had stayed.

And yet, no matter how tired Damen clearly was, Damen's soft expression still proclaimed that he didn't have anything he'd rather be doing than staring down at Laurent's face, even when Laurent undoubtedly looked like a sweaty and sleep-deprived mess.

"So are you," Laurent rebutted. "Well done. You've drained yourself and made yourself useless, probably for the next few days straight, so that instead of having one Prince pulled away from command for days on end we now have two."

"Someone really should to teach you how to say the words 'thank you'," Damen suggested.

"Who says I'm thankful? We don't even know if it worked yet."

They might yet have achieved the exact opposite result from what they intended. Laurent was all too aware of how he must have sounded in the throes of it, crying out for relief (and for Damen). Once that gossip spread through the camp, if it hadn't managed to already as the guards had cycled through shifts and gone back to the barracks where their Alpha cohort would have been waiting with eager ears, any respect Laurent's soldiers still had left for him would probably be lost. It was quite possible, Laurent thought, that he was never going to be able to look his men in the eyes again.

"Besides," Laurent admitted, "your presence only made things worse in at least one respect."

Damen didn't miss his meaning. He didn't grin at Laurent's discomfort, but it was clearly a near thing. "Did it now? Does that mean you thought of me, at least?" Damen asked cheekily. He must have already known the answer. Laurent knew he'd called out loudly throughout the worst of it; the sound would have carried.

"Shut up," Laurent said, shoving at Damen out of annoyance, though he might as well have been pushing at a brick wall as at Damen's broad chest, weakened as he was. "And if you're going to hang about being annoying, at least make yourself useful and get me a glass of water."

When Damen stood, Laurent saw that the material over his thigh was no longer its usual crisp white, but instead was now stained the dark red of dried blood.

"You're bleeding," Laurent commented, trying not to sound as concerned as he felt.

"Mmm, I was," Damen said noncommittally. "So were you," he said, indicating the bite on Laurent's arm.

Laurent ignored his own injury in favour of Damen's. "Why were you bleeding? Was there an attempted attack?" Laurent hadn't heard anything that he could remember, but he'd been fairly distracted and out of it a lot of the time.

"No." Damen sounded slightly embarrassed now. "No, everything was fine. You weren't in danger. But the pain… helped."

Oh. Damen had done that to himself. He'd dug the tip of his sword or a knife into the meat of his thigh and shed his own blood to stop himself from reacting more completely to Laurent.

"You're an idiot," Laurent said, unable to stop himself from sounding fond.

Damen smiled slightly. "When you say that word, it sounds like you mean something else." 

It sounded that way to Laurent too, increasingly so every time he said it lately. It felt like it as well. It shouldn't have, but it did.

"Don't flatter yourself," Laurent said, but when Damen held out the cup of water, Laurent let his fingers brush against Damen's just for a moment, taking the bite out of his words.

Damen seemed satisfied enough by that small concession.

Laurent didn't know how long Damen remained there like that, just watching him and being a quiet presence. He only knew that he was exhausted enough to fall asleep with Damen right there beside his bed, as if Laurent didn't see Damen as a threat at all, but a much needed comfort.


	22. Chapter 22

For once a strategy originating from Damen went off without a hitch. Laurent couldn't deny that he gave good tactical advice, but as far as Laurent had seen, Damen's true forte was more reactionary, pulling victory from the jaws of defeat when things didn't quite go the way they should have. That he'd managed to lay out an idea and seen it through exactly as anticipated seemed incongruous to Laurent, who was used to being the one with the workable plan.

Even stranger to contemplate was the idea that Laurent now found himself oddly thankful in retrospect for having gone through this particular heat, as terrible as it had felt at the time. 

Getting proof that Damen was right, and that an Alpha (at least an Alpha like Damen) really could restrain himself around an Omega in heat, was a nice side benefit. It left him feeling as though he had slightly less to fear from his soldiers than he'd thought, for one thing, as well as finally confirming a few things that Laurent had long since started to suspect about Damen's character. 

What really had Laurent feeling pleased, though, was the exact nature of the way the men were talking about Laurent's heat. Laurent had worried that news of the way Laurent knew he had sobbed Damen's name in the worst parts of it would get back to the soldiers, confirming their suspicions that there was something more than strategy going on there. The fact that that information apparently hadn't spread made Laurent breathe a sigh of relief, as well as look upon his Beta guards with different eyes. There was little chance that none of them had heard him. Yet they had kept it to themselves regardless. 

Instead, the guards who'd been present outside his room during Laurent's heat only carried back the tale of Laurent being so cold towards the prince-killer that he'd made Damen park himself in the hallway outside Laurent's room for the entirety of Laurent's heat, not even allowing him to leave to eat and sleep, torturing him with his scent for days on end to the point that the Prince of Akielos had to put a blade in his own leg just to keep himself sane. 

"He's a cast-iron bitch, no mistake about that," Laurent overheard Orlant saying as he gleefully slapped a still shattered-looking Damen on the back. 

The men of Vere, awestruck, toasted to the unexpected evidence of their own Prince's continued supremacy over the Prince of Akielos, just as they had when Laurent had inexplicably emerged from Damen's camp no longer his prisoner. The possibility that Damen was bedding Laurent quickly seemed to die away from their collective thoughts. Just as Damen had thought, they reasoned that if Laurent and Damen were fucking, they'd never have been able to stay only twenty feet away from each other on opposite sides of the door for three whole days of heat.

Laurent carefully covered his wrist at all times while the bruising from the cuff healed so that he gave no impression that staying apart from Damen had been any kind of effort for him.

It was only a temporary stopgap, though, because Laurent had no doubt that eventually either Damen or Laurent would do something that would cast suspicion back on their connection. Just their continuing close proximity might be enough once enough time passed for the men to forget about Laurent's supposed cruelty during his heat.

"I'd stop spending any time at all with you now if I could afford to, but we need to strategise," Laurent reasoned. Also, Laurent no longer particularly enjoyed the thought of sending Damen away from him, though he wasn't about to say as much.

"You know, if they're loyal enough to you, and believe that your strength is uncontested, it will barely matter to your soldiers who you might be bedding anyway," Damen claimed. "You wouldn't actually have to worry about changing how you act towards me, then. You could solve more than just the issue of how your soldiers view us spending time together if you'd just slightly change the way you act towards _them_."

"Let me guess," Laurent said, unimpressed. "I need to act more like an Alpha commander so that they don't think that following me is optional. Don't you think I've been trying to do that?"

"No," Damen chastised him. "You definitely shouldn't do that. When have I ever suggested that you should try to be anything other than what you are? You don't try to wield your sword like an Alpha, do you? You never have when I've seen you. And just as well, because you'd lose. You don't have the upper body strength for that kind of approach. And yet, even without that physical strength, when you fight most Alphas, you win. If you let your people write it off as you winning despite being an Omega, you do both them and yourself a disservice. You win _because_ you're an Omega; because of your speed and coordination and, most of all, your focus on the mental side of the fight rather than the physical. It's your strength. There's no shame in it," Damen assured him. "Being an Omega is as much a part of you as your intelligence, and you certainly don't mind using that to your benefit. You'll earn loyalty far better by leading your army of Alphas the way only an Omega could rather than trying to play at being an Alpha yourself."

"I'm not like my uncle, you know," Laurent said bitterly. "I don't secretly wish I'd been born an Alpha. You're right; it wouldn't suit me. It's the wrong kind of power. I don't actually _want_ to have to spend all my time trying to posture and prove that I can knock men down with my sword, but what choice do I have? It's everyone else that doesn't seem to understand that I can be an Omega and still rule."

"So show them," Damen challenged.

"Yes, apparently it's just that simple," Laurent commented deprecatingly. "It's a wonder I've never tried that before."

"What you've never tried is seeing the other side of this more clearly: it's the Alpha perspective that eludes you," Damen countered. "You look down on Alphas as much as you think we look down on you. Don't try to deny it. This is a road that goes both ways. I've seen you ignore and scorn the way your men sometimes look at you like the sun rises and sets at your behest, because you write it off as them just thinking with their knots. You wonder how to get them to follow you without question? Stop discouraging that kind of devotion, and stop pushing them away at every turn. If anyone suspects I'm bedding you, it's likely because I'm the only person you let at all close to you. By comparison, your own men barely get a moment of your time. For example, the only other person I've even seen you touch in anything but anger was your Captain, Jord; I once saw you lay a hand briefly on his arm in camaraderie. I honestly think he nearly swooned from it. And look at how loyal _he_ is to you. He'd jump off a cliff if you asked it of him."

"Jord isn't looking to bed me, if that's what you think," Laurent said dismissively. 

" _Exactly_ ," Damen emphasised. "That's your problem right there. You think it's all about the desire to bend you over and nothing more. Honestly, what do they teach Omegas in Vere? There are more basic instincts between Alphas and Omegas that go well beyond that. Your Alphas want to impress you, and they're hardwired to protect you. I know you've evidently been fighting against those things for years, and it will be hard to stop doing something so ingrained. But can you imagine the kind of force you'd eventually wield if you stopped acting as though having to deal with and lead Alphas is an unfortunate necessity and started recognising that you have an inbuilt advantage that most other rulers and generals don't have? They'll fight for you harder than they ever would for another Alpha, and die for you more willingly as well."

It sounded too good to be true. But then, so had Damen's claim that Alphas could resist Omegas in heat.

Laurent couldn't help but recall how thwarted Uncle had acted when Laurent had insisted on taking a commission of almost exclusively Alphas with him to the border. At the time Laurent had written it off as Uncle being frustrated that he couldn't as easily insinuate large groups of his own men into Laurent's ranks. But the viciousness of his reaction had been disproportionate with that, Laurent had to admit. Uncle, who usually spoke in cloying falsehoods and doublespeak, had finally made his true feelings towards Laurent so abundantly clear that even someone like Damen, who would trust family right up to and probably beyond it being his downfall, and who couldn't seem to detect deception, couldn't have ignored such vehement hatred.

Had it been because Uncle was wary of the kind of army Damen was describing: a cadre of fighters willing to live and die by a word, with Laurent at the helm?

Even if it was, it wasn't quite that simple. Laurent didn't know how to be a prince and an Omega at the same time rather than treating them as conflicting, alternating roles. 

When Laurent grudgingly admitted as much, Damen's expression was tender. 

"You've never been anything less than a prince with me, and yet I've seen your strength as an Omega clearly enough," Damen advised him. 

"Yes, well, if my entire army thought about me as you do, I have a feeling I'd never get a moment's rest," Laurent said. "That's not exactly my aim here."

Damen shook his head. "I'm not saying you need to encourage them that much." It was clear from his tone that he'd much prefer Laurent didn't try to, actually. "Look, you can tell when an Alpha is hoping to gain your attention, can't you?"

"Of course I can," Laurent admitted. "I'm not blind."

"Good. Then it's not so hard. You see that they want your attention? Give it to them. It doesn't even have to be much. A kind word or some passing contact would probably go a very long way when they're used to getting so little from you. All you have to do is give in just a little and they'll meet you the rest of the way."

"Are you sure you're still talking about my men?" Laurent challenged.

Damen laughed slightly. "Yes. You're hardly going to listen to any advice I give you about opening up to _me_ , are you? Though you have to admit that I am uniquely qualified to advise you on how you can win an Alpha over without even really trying." 

"It's different," Laurent said. "They're not…" He hesitated to finish that sentence; to put it into words. Giving it a name made it real.

"They don't need to be," Damen said, understanding. "They just need to believe you give a damn about them. Give them a reason."

"If I give them an inch, they'll take a mile," Laurent countered. Now Laurent was the one who definitely wasn't just talking about the men.

"I think they'll take exactly how much you allow them to, and no more," Damen said.

"Like you have?" Laurent scoffed.

Damen shrugged. "Haven't I?"

Laurent glared.

"It won't be how you're imagining," Damen assured him. "You're a prince; you're expected to remain above them at all times. And adoration can be just as strong even if it's one-sided. I'm sure you're more than familiar with that concept, looking like you do. I wonder how many hearts you've left broken along the way. I've no doubt it's too many to count."

Attempts at courting due to lust or strategy or both weren't the same thing as love, Laurent knew. Even those men in Arles over the years who'd acted as though they breathed for him hadn't been thinking with their hearts. No one who'd paid him that kind of attention could ever have been said to feel something that real for him. Before.

"Not really. There's just been one, I think," Laurent concluded, even if he hadn't quite managed to break it yet.

Damen didn't really react to the words, suggesting he hadn't quite understood Laurent's real meaning. 

"But I did see the way the Alphas at Arles tripped over themselves trying to get a moment of my time just because I was attractive and smelled good," said Laurent, "Maybe the soldiers will stop questioning me if I stop pushing them away, but if that's only because they're too busy staring after me all doe-eyed, then that's hardly what I need when there's a war at stake."

"If you don't believe your men have a more solid core than some soft palace courtiers, obviously you've chosen your troop poorly," Damen said. 

"My men are strong." The words came out without Laurent even thinking about them, insistent, the proud words of a ruler. He shocked himself slightly with it, though Damen didn't seem surprised.

Satisfied, Damen said, "Then you have nothing to worry about. Devotion doesn't make strong men weak. The men that fight fiercely under my father feel a warm and unequivocal connection to him." Damen drew a long breath in, as if debating with himself, before adding, "The men who followed your brother adored him almost as much as you clearly did as well. They'd have fought for him even if he wasn't their Prince. They'd have died for him just as happily too."

Laurent's jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

"You could have that so easily. You could have _more_ than that. You're an Omega with an army of Alphas at your disposal, and that army will only grow exponentially over time if you have your way. One day you'll be terrifying to your enemies."

It occurred to Laurent that Damen's words were really just a more detailed echo of something he'd been told a long time ago. Auguste had said that being an Omega would make him more revered, not less. As Laurent had seen the way the court reacted to him, and the way the soldiers seemed to view him from the start, he'd come to assume that meant that he had the capacity to make people act foolish and let down their guard, and the tactical advantage that they would underestimate him. On reflection, though, that had never been the way Auguste thought of things. If Auguste believed that being an Omega could be an advantage – and he would never have said it if he didn't believe it – then it would have been something more like what Damen was describing now.

Of course it took Damen to show him that. He and Auguste were so alike. Laurent had no idea what to do with that whenever he was reminded of it.

"Fine," Laurent conceded. "But if in doing this I actually lose the respect of my soldiers, I'm stealing your army from you instead."

He wasn't serious, and they both knew it. Laurent's army was frustrating at times, but it was _his_ , and the Akielons might be necessary to supplement it in the fight against Uncle, but they'd never be his people the way the Veretians were, whether they all currently wanted to be or not.

But Damen still admitted, "I wouldn't doubt that you could. Makedon for one already likes you more than he'll admit. You could probably even win over Nikandros to your side if you really put in the effort. Although, come to think of it, maybe don't let Nikandros hear you saying that you're going to steal my army, even in jest. I'd never hear the end of it."

Laurent took Damen's advice in dealing with the men, to a point. It was hard for Laurent to try to connect with people in any real way, but Laurent was certainly capable of superficial charm. He didn't suddenly become completely pleasant and welcoming, for he could never keep that up for months on end, and they'd never believe it anyway. The men seemed shocked enough to actually get a single unqualified compliment after the first set of drills that Laurent joined them for after he'd recovered enough from his heat to comfortably ride for a whole day. Over the following few days, that shock morphed into pleased responses as Laurent found good things to point out without making it sound like he was throwing them a bone just to stop them from being completely discouraged by his insults, which until now had been the only reason he'd ever had anything approaching kind words to say to most of them.

It was harder to initiate actual contact. Laurent was used to putting up a shield of untouchability. In most cases, it wasn't just a façade, but was truth. Laurent didn't like to let anyone that close. But if it was going to be a potential step in beating his uncle, Laurent could at least try.

When Laurent didn't just help up a soldier he'd defeated after a sparring match, as had already been his norm, but actually clapped him on the back and told him it had been a good fight, it felt unnatural to Laurent. He wasn't the back-clapping sort, even if Makedon kept making him live through being on the receiving end of it. But the soldier, whose name Laurent couldn't even recall, looked like he would never in his entire lifetime forget that one moment.

Laurent looked over to find Damen watching him and barely hiding his laughter. "Oh shut up," Laurent said quietly.

"No, that was, um, good," Damen said, amused. "Though maybe next time you should at least try to look like you're reaching out to touch a man, not a dangerous animal."

When Laurent commended Enguerran on his leadership at the end of one day, though, and it came out sounding far more natural than he'd managed so far, Damen didn't look quite so amused.

" _He_ doesn't need any more convincing," Damen said jealously.

Laurent narrowed his eyes slightly at that. He made a point of showing Enguerran extra attention the next day while Damen could do nothing but stand back and watch, annoyed.

Laurent did finally start to see what Damen saw when he talked of the possibilities. These men were dying for his attention, he realised now. Even though on the surface it still came off to Laurent as Alphas wanting to fuck an Omega, he also saw how they would happily settle for less. Laurent had never thought about there being such a midpoint before. It had always seemed like an all or nothing kind of situation. 

Laurent looked out over his army as Jord put them through manoeuvres. They were five hundred strong, with another hundred each currently at Ravenel and Acquitart prepared to hold down the defences of those forts long enough for Laurent and Damen to ride to assist if either location came under attack. There were also some three hundred men belonging to his uncle and to Fortaine still in the cells, whom Laurent fully intended to find a way to win over as well, though he still wasn't sure how, as it would be no easy feat. He wondered what his army might look and act like by the end of this campaign. There might be four or five times that number, all looking to Laurent as their undisputed leader. One day, when Uncle was out of power, there might be double that again, or more. Laurent imagined what it would be like when Laurent truly did step up and become their King, able to lead them into battle under a united banner.

It was a heady thought.

Nearly two weeks after his heat, Laurent was standing out in the field outside Fortaine late one evening, watching from a slight distance as his soldiers gathered around a blazing newly-lit fire and occupied themselves with drinking, which would soon turn into various stages of carousing once the abundance of sharp wine being passed around started really hitting them. They'd stumble back to the barracks in a few hours to get enough sleep that they'd be recovered for morning drills. If they weren't at their best by tomorrow, after all, they knew that Laurent would make them suffer all the more for it.

He would usually have left them to it by now, but just before he would have left, Laurent had seen Jord and Orlant ducking off for some privacy. Laurent knew them well enough to be sure that it wouldn't be for amorous purposes. Not between those two. Perhaps he'd grown too accustomed to eavesdropping in Arles, but part of him had to know what they were discussing that they didn't want overheard by the others.

"I'd never have agreed when he made me Captain if I'd known that he thought I wasn't capable of protecting him when he needed it," Jord was saying quietly when Laurent got close enough to hear.

"Shows guts that he assembled a troop of mostly Alphas if he thought we couldn't control ourselves around him for days on end four times a year, though," Orlant pointed out. "It makes sense he'd believe that, really, now that I think about it. Up in the palace it's all aristocrats whining that they couldn't help it, like it could only ever be the Omega's fault for not shutting themselves in well enough, even if the Alpha broke down the door or followed them home for miles before heat even properly hit them. They all act like it's lowborn men that give Alphas a bad name, but I'd just bet most of the Alphas who catch out an unwilling Omega are 'noblemen' too used to getting their own way to accept that they can't just stick their cocks wherever they like."

Laurent narrowed his eyes as he continued to listen to their conversation. Jord had no real right to discuss the contents of a private conversation between himself and his Prince. Jord would have known he was doing something wrong before he opened his mouth, and so he would probably have deserved it if Laurent had walked up now and bitten his head off about it, and maybe even demoted him for his gall. But Jord wasn't usually the type to spread rumours, and luckily for him Laurent was well aware of that. Laurent could see even from this distance that it was concern for his Prince that was driving Jord, not idle speculation. And there was thankfully no indication throughout the conversation that Jord had mentioned anything about his apprehension regarding Laurent and Damen as a pair. 

It seemed, from what Laurent could tell, that Jord had simply been so disquieted about Laurent having thought that his heat would drive even his own men to mindlessly attack him that he'd needed to share that burden with someone. Laurent wondered if he'd been stewing in it for the past fortnight or so, with no outlet. Jord wasn't like Laurent. He didn't necessarily think best in isolation. There was no indication that he'd already had or intended to have this conversation with anyone other than Orlant, who was his closest friend among the troop. For once, Orlant didn't look interested in spreading this new piece of information further either. If anything, his expression mirrored the one Damen had worn when Laurent had described how Alphas in Vere often went about forcing Omegas to submit to marrying them.

Perhaps, Laurent considered with surprise, many Veretian Alphas didn't appreciate the status quo in Laurent's kingdom any more than Laurent himself did. Damen might have been right after all: Laurent had never really given enough thought to the Alpha perspective on his situation. 

So Laurent didn't call Jord and Orlant out. Neither, though, did he retreat back to Fortaine as Jord and Orlant finished their conversation and drifted back to join the others. Instead, Laurent stood there watching the laughing soldiers thoughtfully.

Damen eventually found him there, having obviously come looking for him when Laurent didn't return to the castle, as he usually would have by nightfall.

"I see a difference in them already," Damen said, indicating the throng of soldiers. "Even if it's small at this stage. It's something to be built upon."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. If they turned into the kind of force Damen had described, Laurent would have Damen to thank for it. But he already had a lot to be grateful to Damen for, and he wasn't about to give Damen any more reason to act big-headed about it. Instead, he said, "You know, you shouldn't help me with them so much. One day you might stand on the opposite side of the battlefield from this army."

"I might," Damen agreed, not sounding entirely as though he believed it. "But we have a lot to accomplish before that becomes a concern, don't we?"

"Yes," Laurent said again. "The other week, when I came at you, I…"

"Lost your focus?" Damen suggested. "I know. I'm not an idiot. I've seen what you're like when something rattles you. Sometimes you just need to calm down enough to give yourself a chance to remember what it is you really want."

"You say that as if I don't really want you dead," Laurent rebuked.

"Not right now, you don't."

"But eventually," Laurent said, trying to convince himself as much as Damen. "You're foolish if you let yourself forget it. Don't think I've forgiven you just because we've shared a few conversations. And just because I weighed up your character and your options and decided that on the balance you were unlikely to attack me during heat, that doesn't mean that I trust you."

"I know that your reasons for that aren't just going to go away," Damen admitted.

Laurent pressed the ball of his hand against his eye, as if warding off a headache. "I do wish I could pretend for more than a few moments at a time that you were just some nameless Alpha who's helped me time and again and occasionally surprised me in the best of ways. But I can barely go more than two minutes without remembering the rest of it."

"I can make you forget for longer than that," Damen offered. "Is that what you'd like?" 

"I don't know," Laurent said honestly, then, "No," he suddenly decided. "What I'd like is to go back to six years ago and stop you from ever setting foot near my brother. Things would have been so different then."

"I'd like that too," Damen said softly. "I'd like to have _made_ your father talk to me, the way he was supposed to when the parley was called. Or perhaps I should have bypassed him and talked to your brother. Really what I wish now is that I could have talked to you back then instead, even though I know it could never have happened; you'd have been too far beyond the lines in deference to your status and youth to ever get close to me. But I think even back then you'd have been able to come up with some scheme that would have stopped the bloodshed, if only someone had actually asked you to really weigh in on it. And Auguste would have listened to you when you told him that it would work, I think, even if your father would have preferred not to hear it."

"And you? I would have only been thirteen," Laurent reminded him. "You wouldn't have heeded me."

"I'm sure you still would have been convincing, even then."

"You'd have had no reason to give me a second glance. You wouldn't have been attracted to me then," Laurent said, but he knew he sounded just slightly unsure of that despite his best intentions.

"No," Damen thankfully agreed. "But that's hardly the only thing you have going for you. There would have been something about you that would have made me listen. Your youth might have been an asset in that respect, because I would have been impressed that someone so young could be wiser than a group of grown men. Much the same way you being an Omega only makes you more impressive to me now."

Laurent rolled his eyes, disbelieving.

"No, really," Damen insisted. "I mean it. Part of what I feel for you is tied up in you being an Omega, I'll admit, but mostly that's because I like how you clearly refused to settle for being _just_ that. I bet if you'd wanted to you could have just sat back in your palace and just been a beautiful and pampered figurehead. The court in Arles would have pandered to you without you having to even try to win them over if you'd just smiled along and played at being less intelligent than you are. Your uncle probably wouldn't have even bothered to try to kill you then, content to believe you would just let yourself be married off and made into a puppet king when the time came. It would have been a comfortable enough life. But that's not you. To get here, you must have looked at that potential future and decided you would do whatever it took to have more than that. You've more will and determination than any Alpha I know." 

That was completely different from the way Laurent finally presenting as an Omega made the courtiers of Arles suddenly fawn over him. It wasn't even quite like how he'd managed to win over Makedon by acting mostly like an Alpha even while allowing himself to be underestimated as an Omega.

That was, of course, if it were actually true that Damen saw him differently. As with many things when it came to Damen, that was difficult to believe.

"Whatever you might think, it wasn't just your scent, or your looks, that drew me in," Damen continued. "It's not as though I didn't notice those things, of course. I'd have to be senseless not to. But to be honest, if that was all I saw, I might have written you off as spoiled and vindictive. Maybe I would have seen a typical royal Omega and nothing more, then, as you seem to think I do. Whatever interest I had in you probably would have been little more than a passing fancy if you hadn't tried to kill me." Laurent looked at him dubiously, as if Damen were insane. "It wasn't the fact that you wanted me dead," Damen quickly corrected himself ruefully. "It was the bravery of it. You must have known the attempt, whether it was successful or not, was almost undoubtedly going to get you killed. But despite the odds, and even despite yourself, you still took your chance. For your brother. For honour."

"That's a poor reason to pursue me, considering it was a show of uncharacteristic stupidity," Laurent informed him sharply.

"Was it?" Damen asked. "There are so many layers of you, but I think if I ever managed to peel them all back I would find at the centre of you that man who was willing to place love of his brother ahead of himself. Am I wrong?"

Laurent swallowed heavily.

"And for the record," Damen concluded, "I'd want you now if you weren't an Omega at all, because I think I've seen the kind of man you are underneath it." 

Laurent made a dismissive noise. "Even if I were an Alpha? Right."

"Even then," Damen insisted. "On those occasions when I've chosen to take men rather than women into my bed in the past, they've rarely been subservient slaves. If a man catches my eye, it's someone who I know can handle me. You're different from what I'm used to in so many ways, but not in that. I've lain with Alphas before, you know." The mental picture Laurent conjured of that affected Laurent in a strange way. "I'd hardly let that stop me with someone like you. Though if you actually were an Alpha," Damen said drolly, "I imagine you'd be the one who'd insist on fucking me, even if just to prove that you could. And I think I'd let you."

The shock of those words went straight to Laurent's gut. He was actually surprised that he didn't audibly gasp with it. It didn't feel quite like pure disbelief, though. It was something else.

"And now," Laurent asked, despite himself, "with me being an Omega?" 

Slyly, Damen said, "Are you trying to tell me that you'd like to fuck me?"

"In your dreams," Laurent said, thankful his voice didn't shake.

"Yes, that's true."

"I don't want to know what goes on in your brain," Laurent protested, even though that wasn't entirely true.

"Don't you?"

Laurent leveled a glower at him.

Damen answered it with a slow smile.

"Really? You wouldn't at all like to hear about how I've wondered what it would be like for you to have me the way _you_ would want to? You're not interested in how you could be totally in charge of me for as long as you cared to, able to do whatever you'd like to me, and prevent me from doing anything you wouldn't like?" Damen prodded in a low voice, as if they were flirting instead of fighting. He did always seem to get confused about that distinction. 

"How about how you'd pin me down and keep me down this time? I'd be made defenceless underneath you, Alpha or not," Damen continued, and yes, clearly he was confused. But so was Laurent now, for that matter. "You'd want to capitalise on my temporary weakness, to keep me in my place, so you'd find something, perhaps like those heavy chains you complained about being bound in when we first met, and you'd restrain me properly so you could be sure that I wouldn't try to flip you or overpower you. But you wouldn't need to worry, because I'd happily let you stay on top, in command, just the way you'd want it. I'd trust you with that, Laurent."

You shouldn't, Laurent thought. Damen shouldn't trust him at all. But once his trust was given, Damen was unlikely to renege on it. Warning him now was already too little too late.

"You'd use that knife of yours to cut through my chiton in a single tear, leaving me vulnerable and with no real way to rectify that. You, on the other hand, would remain completely laced up in those clothes that might as well be armour. But you'd be as beautiful and irresistible in your confidence as if you were proudly bare, so I wouldn't mind the discrepancy all that much. The only part of your clothes you'd undo would be to release the pressure on your lovely cock, which would already be hard. I'd strain against the chains as soon as I finally got a look at it, but the restraints wouldn't even have enough slack for me to be able to touch you with my hands the way I'd want to.

"You'd take just a little bit of mercy on me by straddling my thighs. I'd rock my hips up against yours, our cocks slotting together, and you'd let me, but only as long as I kept to your preferred pace. Whenever I tried to speed up, you would pull away teasingly. That rhythm would be enough to satisfy you for a while. Even though I would have been wishing for more for ages, and you would be able to tell just how desperate I was, you still wouldn't move on until you decided you were good and ready to. Though you'd bend just a little towards the end, wrapping both your hands around the combined width of us and letting me have just a few sharper thrusts with that extra friction before you'd pull away. 

"You'd move your body up the length of mine, then. I'd kiss your chest as it slid past, wishing I could taste skin and sweat instead of silk. And then you'd tell me you had a better use for my mouth. For the first time I'd really regret you not shedding your clothing. Because you'd probably think that you wanted my lips on your cock, but I'd want to show you how I could bend you over and use my tongue to really take you apart, the way –" 

" _Stop_."

Having finally rediscovered his own tongue through the shock of it all, Laurent also recalled his leg muscles, and used them to jerk back and away. He had no idea when their bodies had grown so close, so it must have been gradual. He hoped Damen had been the one to lean inwards, not him.

Laurent glanced over at the distant crowd filled with his men, having finally remembered them. None of them were looking in Laurent and Damen's direction, mercifully. The two of them were far enough away from the fire that they were heavily in shadow, so the soldiers probably didn't even know that they were there, let alone that they'd been bare inches from each other's bodies.

Laurent's hands were shaking, he realised. He clenched them at his side partly to steady them, and partly to hide the shaking from Damen's eyes. He was suddenly even more grateful for the darkness.

The air around them seemed coated with strong Alpha pheromones, and Laurent's sense of it seemed almost as strong as it had been during heat, when even the slightest whiff had been enough to drive him half mad. Laurent was now breathing in more of that musk than he would have liked because he was panting slightly and couldn't seem to stop himself immediately. He had no idea if his shortness of breath was from the unwanted feelings summoned by the hot flood of Damen's words, or from the spike of shock conjured by those last few poorly-chosen phrases, which had jolted him out of Damen's fantasy and into a long-ago memory of a much harsher voice whispering in his ear: "I'm going to take you apart again and again until you cry." 

Damen remained silent while Laurent composed himself.

"I'm never going to submit to you," Laurent finally said. Just the thought of it sent a fresh pulse of dread through him. "You're not going to get me on my knees and –"

"I'm sorry," Damen interrupted quickly. "That's not what I want. I didn't think that you'd have… I didn't think."

"You should leave," Laurent said. It wasn't quite the strict order that he'd intended for it to be.

"I won't actually touch you like that unless you ask for it, remember?" Damen swore. "You don't need to worry when you're with me."

Laurent realised that Damen could smell it in the air just as clearly as Laurent could smell him, and Damen's reaction to that scent was immediate, just as it had been in the prison tent in Akielos. Anxious Omega: abort. Damen in reply smelled less aroused now and more protective.

Of course, Damen thought it had been fear of _him_ that had affected Laurent like that. Laurent didn't correct him. For all that Laurent hated that Damen might think that he could prompt that kind of reaction in Laurent, it was still better than the alternative; than the truth. 

"If I had complete power over you," Laurent said eventually, "your little make-believe scenario wouldn't be how I'd use it. I'd likely be more cruel to you than you could imagine."

"I have difficulty believing that," Damen said. "Maybe you could have, once. But I don't think we'll ever know now."

"You don't think at all," Laurent accused.

"I do, though," Damen rebuffed. "I just think about different things than you assume I should."

Damen looked as though he wanted to reach out for Laurent. But Laurent watched as he flexed his hand at his side instead and made no move in Laurent's direction. Instead, Damen wished him a good night and retreated back towards Fortaine.

Laurent breathed a sigh of relief once he was gone. He tried not to notice that when he quickly began to feel better, it wasn't due to Damen's absence, but rather the fact that when he inhaled again he filled his lungs with Damen's leftover scent, comforting and strong, slow to dissipate even in the open air.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this chapter we've passed the 100K word mark, which makes this a good time to mention how thankful I am to everyone who's jumped on board this speeding train of a fic with me. I initially thought this thing would have been done 50K words ago, and it's grown more than a little daunting in size since then, but you've all motivated me to continue writing at this ridiculous pace by letting me know you like it. I hope the people who left kudos way back in the first few chapters are still reading/enjoying this about 105K words and 23 chapters later. And I especially appreciate the comments, because I like interacting with you all. In case you guys haven't noticed, I often tend to give (long rambling) detailed answers, and those actually sometimes help me clarify things in my own head and/or give me ideas for tweaking future chapters, which is so helpful. So to everyone I've rambled in the direction of in the comments section, it's not in vain, and I love you all. 
> 
> Having said all that, **importantly** , I'm about to put you through the wringer a bit. I'd be so happy if you'd hang in with me here. But if you know you may be triggered by specific things that aren't already warned for in the tags or the first few author's notes, please feel free to comment or to email me at just-another-day@outlook.com if you'd personally like a spoilery warning to help you decide whether you want to read onwards. Or you could just read the existing comments for Chapters 23-25, because there are certainly enough spoilers there to let you know what you're in for.

Laurent called for Enguerran to meet with him early in the morning, before they were both due to join the soldiers from the barracks and sweep out in the direction of Ravenel to clear out Uncle's scouts or any potential amassing forces thinking to move against Laurent's other recent acquisition now that it was less defended than it had been in years. 

"We have another three hundred men at our disposal that we're currently not making use of," Laurent began when Enguerran stood before him.

"The men in the cells," Enguerran said in understanding. 

Laurent nodded. "I know Councillor Guion well enough to be certain that those men who served under him will have been throughly poisoned against me, possibly for years now. The men my uncle sent likely won't be any better disposed towards turning against him on my behalf. I may not be able to convince them to our side on my own, at least not easily. They probably won't hear anything that comes out of my mouth. Not yet."

"They'll change their minds," Enguerran assured him. 

"Perhaps they will, if they're given a reason to. You personally know many of the men who are currently down in the cells, don't you?" Laurent asked.

"Yes. Lord Touars and Lord Guion were in frequent contact, often co-ordinating against perceived attempts by Akielos to take either fortress. So as Lord Touars's Captain, I spent my share of time visiting Fortaine or dealing with Lord Guion's more senior men visiting Ravenel over the years. I've even fought alongside many of them," Enguerran admitted.

"Then I imagine they're well aware of your honour and loyalty to Vere," Laurent said. "I can't imagine that anyone who's spent any time with you and who has even a modicum of insight could fail to be aware of your character."

Enguerran's chin raised slightly, proudly.

"You'd like me to speak to them on your behalf," Enguerran deduced. 

"Straight after I took Ravenel, you let yourself be convinced to join me fairly easily," Laurent said. "You had little reason to want to serve the man who'd just been partly responsible for the death of your previous Lord, other than the fact that I happened to have been born royalty. I doubt that alone would have been enough to convince a man like you so quickly, at least not under those circumstances. I think those men locked up down there would greatly benefit from hearing precisely why you took up my cause."

"Would _you_ like to hear the reason?" Enguerran asked.

"I don't need to," Laurent answered. "It's enough for me that you did."

"I'll happily talk to them," said Enguerran. "But that may not be enough. I'm only a Captain of a neighbouring fortress." He paused and smiled wryly. "Not even quite that, anymore."

Laurent asked thoughtfully, "Does that bother you? Jord isn't highborn like you. He has less experience with captaincy than you. Does serving under him as Captain grate on you?"

Enguerran gave him a strange look. "I have no problem following a man who'd traditionally be seen as my lesser. You're right: loyalty isn't given as a birth-right alone. It's earned. I'd be a fool not to see that Jord has earned his position."

He clearly wasn't just talking about Jord, though.

Laurent nodded sharply in acknowledgement, his throat feeling oddly tight.

"I don't expect you to emerge from the cells with a group happy to follow me by the end of the day," Laurent said. "I'll speak to them myself in time. I'd simply hope to find an audience slightly less bitter towards me than they are currently by the time I do."

"I'll do my best," Enguerran promised.

"That's all I ask," Laurent said, instead of a thank you or a dismissal.

Some minutes before Laurent would have followed after Enguerran and headed out of Fortaine for the day, a servant arrived at Laurent's room with a message for him.

For once it was Laurent who ended up seeking entry at the door to Damen's rooms, though unlike with Damen's habit of showing up when Laurent would rather he didn't, Laurent actually had been invited. No, that wasn't really the right word for it. Laurent had been _summoned_ , as though he weren't a prince in his own right, and therefore the one that usually bid others to come to him. The only person Laurent was at all accustomed to having send for him was his uncle. It wasn't the best association to have in mind, to say the least, and had put him in a bad mood even before his interaction with Damen started.

As he was called inside the door, Laurent glanced around. Laurent hadn't really personalised his own quarters in Fortaine. This wasn't home, even though it now belonged to him. On the other hand, although Laurent hadn't laid eyes on the place where Damen had been sleeping inside Fortaine since their arrival, until now, he remembered enough of it from the night he'd inspected it and deemed it fit for royalty to be able to tell that it looked far different now. There was a feel of simplicity with subtle touches of wealth that reminded Laurent more of Damen's tent that Laurent had spent a single night inside than it did the abundant Veretian opulence found in the rest of the aristocrats' chambers in Fortaine. The room now appeared more like it actually belonged to Damen than as if he were just sleeping there as a kind of waystation for a few weeks until they were convinced that both Laurent's men and Damen's would happily follow them north. 

Everywhere he went, it seemed that Damen transformed things.

As soon as Damen gave Laurent his attention, Laurent leaned against the cold stone of the wall by the inside of Damen's door, a picture of nonchalance. "You called for me?" he said dryly. "Let me guess, you heard that I had a private chat with Enguerran and wanted to make your displeasure known. I'm actually surprised you didn't burst into the room in the middle of it, to be honest."

Damen looked troubled, but seemingly not by Laurent's attitude, or even by the mention of Enguerran.

"I've received word from Ios," Damen informed him. Laurent automatically found himself standing a little straighter at that. "It's taken some time to reach me, apparently, bouncing around from place to place trying to track my current whereabouts. The messenger's first thought understandably wasn't that I'd be inside the walls of a far-flung Veretian border fortress." 

"Has your father finally clued in on the fact that his son is gallivanting around in an enemy land trying to create alliances and to solve the problems of Akielos that its own King isn't even aware might exist?" Laurent asked.

Damen shook his head. "It wasn't my father who sent the message. It was his physician. My father wasn't well, and that was weeks ago when the messenger first departed Ios. I have to leave, to ride for Ios. My father needs me there."

It wasn't at all what Laurent had expected to hear this morning when he'd been informed that Damen was asking for him. But perhaps it should have been, on reflection. Laurent had known that Uncle would have to make a move once he learned that the force at Laurent's disposal had grown beyond anything Uncle could have anticipated when he'd suggested Laurent should do his duty on the border. Laurent was short-sighted for assuming that move would be made inside Vere. Just because Laurent's own eyes had lately been focused more on the internal affairs of his own country, not to mention on his more personal problems, didn't mean that Uncle wouldn't have recognised this as the opportune moment to stage a critical strike against Akielos. 

As things currently stood, Laurent was fairly impervious to attack. If Damen had to leave to go deal with his own problems in the south, and he of course took his soldiers with him to do so, Laurent would lose a lot of his current standing. He might have extra fortresses to his name, but with possibly fewer than seven hundred men to hold three castles across this distance, that would mean little in the long term. He'd have to pick one, and even then he'd be more susceptible to siege than he was at present. Worse still, Laurent hadn't needed to be overly worried about an all-out attack coming from the Akielon side of the border as long as Damen was with him. That might not remain true for much longer. Laurent had just yesterday been imagining how he might be able to encircle Uncle, trapping him in far reaches of the north with nowhere but the wild forests to retreat into. Now Laurent might find himself in the opposite position. Worse, for he had a smaller force than his uncle would have been able to call upon to hold back any incursion. 

Uncle might undo almost all of Laurent's work of the past months with one assassination. And there was little Laurent could do from this distance to stop it.

It was as if Laurent had lost sight at some point in recent weeks that this was Uncle's chessboard they were on, not Laurent's. Laurent had been looking at the wrong end of the board, and all the while Uncle had been plotting a winning move.

"This sickness has come rather unexpectedly," Damen said pointedly. "My father isn't young, but he was healthy, and then all of a sudden not. The physician gave no satisfactory reason for the change. I think you might have an idea of why this has happened, though. You spoke of your uncle having spies inside Ios." 

"You're asking if I think my uncle had some hand in hastening the death of the King of Akielos?" Laurent said. "Of course I think that. Surely you don't believe the timing is a coincidence? You already know exactly what I think is happening."

"You think I'm being baited away so I'll leave you open to attack as soon as I'm gone?" Damen pressed. 

Laurent was slightly impressed that, even with the worry about his father, the larger truth of the matter actually occurred to Damen without prompting.

Laurent thought that there was a better than average chance that if he agreed, and he reminded Damen of how much he needed him here – if he told him that, yes, Laurent's uncle was just waiting for Damen to retreat before he could strike at Laurent once he was left weaker than he'd been for months now – Damen might reconsider going. 

It was probably too late for Damen to make any difference to his father's fate. It might have been too late even before the messenger departed Ios, when the effects of the unfolding plot had already become evident. If Damen had heeded Laurent's words about Kastor from the start, that might have been enough to change the tide, but that was months ago. And then again, that might have changed little anyway, in the grand scheme of things. Uncle would probably have just found another way, and another patsy, to get what he wanted. As it was now, Damen riding for Ios to assist his father would probably be pointless.

But if King Theomedes died while Damen didn't even attempt to ride back to him, that would destroy Damen. It was clear that he loved his father, in a much deeper way than Laurent had ever felt anything about his own. And Damen's continued absence would also make it too easy for Kastor to take at least the capital of Akielos for himself once King Theomedes died. If Akielos was plunged into war and its soldiers and innocent men and women were sacrificed in the crossfire when Damen could possibly have stepped into his role as King in Ios and stopped it before it really had a chance to begin, Damen would hold himself responsible for that too. 

Damen had been the one who had said it: that it was the things he didn't do that he would regret for a lifetime. If he didn't do this, it would haunt him.

Laurent remembered seeing Auguste's lifeless body being carried back from the front, paler than he'd been in life and still smeared with the red pulses of his last moments. It had been a shell, nothing more, just like the hundreds of other bodies Laurent had seen that day. There had been grislier sights to behold that day, but that one had been the most horrific to Laurent all the same. The contrast against what that body had once been, but never would be again, had brought Laurent to tears. 

Damen might still breathe after he stood back and let his kingdom fall to Kastor (even if Damen still probably didn't think that was what was about to happen), but he'd be left just a slightly different kind of shell of his former self all the same.

That couldn't happen. Laurent had to make sure it wouldn't.

Though part of Laurent wanted to pull his own hair out for the foolishness of what he was about to do.

"What I think is that your father is dying," Laurent said overly bluntly. "Are you going to try to play the protective Alpha and come up with excuses to hide here from that fact of life, or are you going to ride for Ios and try to do something about it?"

Annoyingly, Damen didn't quite rise to the goading. "You know that I’m not avoiding anything. I've already said that I have to go. But if the game is to separate us, then wouldn't it make more sense for you to come with me?"

Laurent scoffed. "Is that really what you think is going to happen here? I can't leave unless I want to risk my uncle making a successful attack in my absence. I won't sacrifice the border after planning and fighting for months to take it."

"You've ridden into Akielos before," Damen reminded him.

"Only a few days' ride into Delfeur, where I might have been called back across the border relatively quickly if needed," Laurent said. "There's quite a difference between that and putting myself at the complete opposite end of your country from where I need to be."

"That's the point," Damen said impatiently. "How am I supposed to defend you if I'm in Ios and you remain here, the whole length of my country away?"

He couldn't. It would do no good to remind Damen that Laurent didn't actually need his protection, though, because that wasn't an argument that Damen had ever actually seemed to listen to from the start. And also because in this case it wasn't quite true. Perhaps he didn't need Damen himself to protect Laurent, at least as long as he remained inside Fortaine, but Damen's army's defence was vitally important. Damen clearly knew that. Even if he hadn't, he would still have likely been too stubborn to listen to Laurent's insistence that he should go. 

Laurent was apparently going to have to use a different tactic than mere persuasion.

Laurent said, brutally, "Let me be direct, since that's likely the only way that you'll understand. I'm not about to ride with you to Ios and risk my own death or capture there just for a man who commanded the slaughter of my countrymen. Being involved in ensuring the continued existence of your faithless barbarian King wasn't part of our bargain."

"He's my father," Damen said, looking slightly dazed by Laurent's words.

"Yes, I'm well aware. Don't think that I've forgotten, either, that you stood beside him at Marlas and had a hand in directing the tide of that war," Laurent reminded him. "Your father's death at the behest of Veretian royalty would be a kind of retribution for my entire country, not just for me. It's not exactly something I have some great desire to intercede against."

" _Laurent_."

"I already told you what I knew about the plot that led to this," Laurent said honestly. "Months ago, when there was still a chance that it might have actually helped you. You didn't listen. It's not my responsibility to get any further involved in this, even if I somehow could help you without hurting myself."

"It's strange," Damen said quietly. "Sometimes I see you as the man who finally let me in just a little, and I forget that you can still be colder than ice." 

"That's your mistake," Laurent said as harshly as he could make himself. "I told you what this was. I was never going to run away with you and play happy families. Your little infatuation was never going to last. It wasn't real in the first place."

"Maybe not for you," Damen said. 

When would he stop pushing his feelings at Laurent like physical blows, when every time he risked Laurent hurling them straight back at him? 

Why wouldn't he just _go_ , instead of making it harder on both of them?

Laurent made himself look scornful. "Don't paint yourself in the light of the dashing romantic hero. I'm the last person who's going to be fooled into believing that image of you."

Damen seemed to finally pull himself together and set his back straighter. "Whatever you think of me, or my father, consider the agreement we struck. Our treaty will be difficult to hold if we're hundreds of miles apart, making it obvious that we don't stand united after all. And it will snap like a twig if my father dies under those circumstances. It's in your best interests to support me now. Our armies can ride together for Ios."

Laurent's expression was unflinching. "What's in that for me, except potentially losing what I've already earned?"

Damen didn't seem to know what to say to that. But he still clearly wasn't convinced.

" _Go_ ," Laurent ordered. "I neither need you nor want you here anyway. I've already got everything I really desired from you," Laurent lied. "I have Ravenel and its men. I have Fortaine, and likely its men as well in due course. The whole border is mine. You've been very helpful. I admit it would have been nice to ride towards Arles with greater numbers, but Makedon and those bannermen who hang off his every decision have yet to commit to riding further into Vere anyway. Unless they had changed their minds, you were really going to be dead weight from this point on anyway. It'll actually be easier for me not to have to keep playing along with you when there's no longer any real benefit in it."

Damen shook his head, looking stricken. "Even that first time I met you, when I accused you of purposely acting like some kind of lure, before I knew you well enough that there was any evidence against it, I didn't really believe it of you. Was I wrong? Has all this been some elaborate distraction so that your uncle could get to my father with me preoccupied and well out of the way?"

"It does sound like something Uncle would do," Laurent mused darkly.

"But not you?" 

"I'll always do whatever I need to," was all Laurent would say. 

"You make it hard to trust you sometimes," Damen said.

"Really?" Laurent said, exasperated. "I've told you outright that you shouldn't. Multiple times, in fact. Have you forgotten that I have every intention of killing you?"

Damen admitted, "Perhaps I forgot how serious you were about it. I think now that I'm realising that getting revenge might still be the most important thing in your life."

"Always," Laurent said. 

Damen's breath came out rasping. 

"Oh, did you think I'd say no? That of course _you're_ the most important thing to me, and not in the sense of killing you, but just having you?" Laurent asked, not a drop of caring in his tone. "Have I broken your heart? Perhaps you shouldn't have given it to an enemy so willingly, then." 

"I don't know why your words surprise me," Damen confessed. "It was your sharp edges that caught me first, after all. I should have known I'd end up sliced to ribbons before you were done with me."

"At least then you'd know what it is to bleed from a thousand tiny wounds," Laurent said. "I feel like I haven't stopped doing that for six years now."

"I never intended that kind of cruelty when I killed your brother. Maybe it doesn't make it any better to say so, but I didn't even think about you on that day, or of the feelings of anyone in Vere. I only thought of Akielos. And myself," Damen added, an honest self-insight the likes of which Laurent had never heard Damen utter, thrown out there like a mere afterthought.

Perhaps in answer to that overly honest moment, Laurent found a confession of his own escaping without much real input from his brain: "I wish I could say the same. You're practically all I think about."

"Good," Damen said. "At least that means I'll see you again, even if it's at the ends of each other's swords, like you've always wanted. I ride for Ios in two hours."

Two hours in which Laurent could come to his senses ( _lose_ all sense, that's what he'd meant); in which he could go to Damen and tell him he hadn't meant any of it, that of course he'd go with him, or at least find another way to deal with this together.

Laurent couldn't see any such alternative. He couldn't think clearly, or even really catch his breath, with his chest feeling tight like this.

Instead of going after Damen, Laurent retreated to his own rooms and sat alone on his mattress to wait tensely, clutching the edge of it as if to hold himself in place. He felt every second of the time tick by slowly, painfully.

When four hours were finally up, just to be safe so that he knew for sure that Damen would definitely be gone by then and Laurent could no longer be propelled to do something stupid like stop him or go with him, Laurent allowed himself to slowly rise to his feet. His whole body felt wrung out, like he'd fought a battle for hours instead of just sat in place.

When he eventually looked out the window, Laurent saw at least two thousand men still milling around on the grounds outside the walls of Fortaine, showing every intention of preparing for the mid-day meal and no sign that they were moving to pack up and accompany their Prince south.

Damen might already be gone, but the armies of Akielos remained. 

Laurent immediately dragged himself up and called for Jord. 

"He is actually gone, isn't he?" Laurent asked as soon as Jord entered the room. He didn't even specify who he meant. Jord would have already known. Damen's departure, if it had occurred, wouldn't have been a secret.

"Yes," Jord said. "When you didn't arrive this morning as expected, I called off the ride to Ravenel and sent servants to find out what had happened. From the reports I received, it sounds as though he departed about an hour after I did so."

"Without his army," Laurent said flatly. Damen clearly rode for Ios with few enough men that they probably wouldn't much signify if there was any hint of trouble. Which there would be. Of course there would.

"So it would seem," Jord agreed.

"Send men to follow him, discretely, to make sure he gets to Ios safely," Laurent ordered. "Don't choose anyone who wouldn't –"

"Be willing to die for a foreign prince?" Jord suggested, sounding slightly censuring.

"For this alliance," Laurent corrected. "Look out the window. Those men have been left behind on purpose, to protect this fortress. They'll do so as long as their Prince lives, because he'll have ordered it, and they're loyal to him. But under his bastard brother's rule, they'll leave, and that's if they don't actively turn on us. So tell me that you think we can afford to take the chance that Prince Damianos might die in some attack on the road to Ios."

Jord sighed. "I thought it was just a game to him," he admitted. "That he just wanted to prove he could get to you when no one else ever had, or that he wanted a different type of win over Vere than what he got at Marlas. But he left his army with you when he'd have been better off taking them with him. It's something real, isn't it?"

Laurent didn't say anything to that.

"How many men will you send?" Jord asked.

"Fifty," Laurent said. Enough to supplement Damen's men and make some difference, hopefully, but not so many that they'd immediately be recognised and opposed as a foreign army. "Fast riders, strong fighters. Dressed in Akielon clothes, but at least a couple of them men that Prince Damianos will recognise if he catches sight of the group so the idiot won't be too distracted worrying about a potential attack from them to see a real attack coming."

"Fifty of your best, in other words," Jord said. "Nearly a tenth of your army, not counting the still contained men of Fortaine. And the best tenth at that."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. 

"Including me?" Jord asked. 

Laurent hesitated. It hadn't immediately occurred to him that Jord was, of course, certainly one of his fifty best men. And he would be able to effectively corral the rest of the men towards the purpose of defending Damen, even if many of them would probably prefer not to do so if given the choice. 

Laurent could little afford to send away a man like Jord, if he could help it, when any day he might face an attack from Uncle that he wasn't entirely sure he could count on the remaining men of Akielos to help him stand against, without Damen there to give them fresh orders to do so.

But Laurent definitely couldn't afford to lose _Damen_.

"Yes," Laurent uttered quietly, barely an order, but Jord nodded sharply to say that he took it as one. "Not Enguerran, though," Laurent added. "I need him to stay here if you're going."

Jord reached for the Captain's badge and Laurent pressed his hand to the back of Jord's to stop him from unfastening it. "Enguerran is a worthy Captain. But he's not _my_ Captain," Laurent said, this time in a more sure tone. "You've earned that title. And I expect you to return to it as quickly as possible. I need you here as much as I need you out there. That's an order, Captain."

Jord's back straightened, and he said, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Laurent's chest clenched at being addressed as Jord's King rather than just his Prince.

"Tell those you take with you that they're to defend Prince Damianos as if he were me. Those exact words," Laurent advised. "And if dragging him back over this side of the border kicking and screaming is the only way to keep him alive, you do it." 

Laurent supposed Damen wouldn't feel responsible for whatever happened in Ios if it was Laurent's intercession that stopped him from getting there. He didn't look forward to being blamed for that, if it came to it, but better that than the alternative.

Jord acquiesced and went to prepare. Laurent had a feeling he should have said something more, then. Perhaps he should have thanked him.

Once Jord was gone, Laurent swept out of the castle looking for the highest ranking remaining Akielon commander. Most of bannermen of Delfeur had likely gone with Damen, riding south to either support their sick King in his recovery or see the new King crowned. Laurent was in the strange position of hoping that it was Makedon he would deal with rather than someone like Straton, not least because Damen had insisted that Makedon really did like him. Any advantage Laurent could get at this point would be welcome. And Makedon's army was certainly still here at Fortaine by all appearances; Makedon himself may have remained as well in order to command them. Still, Laurent doubted it would have made sense to Damen to have left Makedon behind. Makedon was an experienced fighter who would be useful in defending Damen, and perhaps would be even more useful in Ios if Damen and Kastor clashed in an effort to wrest control of the palace upon Theomedes's death. Seeing that Makedon stood with Damen might convince the southern men to do so as well, as it had worked to convince the northern men.

Instead of Makedon, though, Laurent found Nikandros, whom he'd never thought for a moment would have remained behind.

Damen hadn't even taken _Nikandros_ with him.

"Did he take _anyone_ to defend him?" were the first shocked words that forced their way out of Laurent's mouth, in Veretian, but Nikandros understood the words even if he replied in his own tongue.

"He went alone," Nikandros answered, sounding frustrated, but mostly worried.

Laurent swallowed against rising bile. "I thought, when I saw the army still here, it must have been a small force, but…"

Alone. 

Laurent might have sent two hundred men, had he known that. But Jord and his chosen troop would already have departed by now, and they'd be riding full-tilt after Damen. There was little point in trying to organise a second, larger group now, when they might not even be able to locate the first, and would probably just draw unwanted attention to themselves (or to Damen) during any attempt to do so.

Damen would manage, Laurent told himself, despite the odds. That was his way. 

"He had to go," Laurent explained, more to himself than to Nikandros. "And I had to stay. There was no other way this could have gone. But I never dreamed he wouldn't pack the rest of you up and take you with him."

"He's worried about the wrong thing," Nikandros said.

He was worried about Laurent, Nikandros meant.

"I sent men," Laurent admitted. "Not enough, now that I know he took none of his own, but some. They'll trail him the whole way, and defend him when necessary."

Nikandros looked like it cost him to say, "Thank you. I was ordered to send no one. I can't disobey him."

"No, I expect not," Laurent agreed. "He's your King." 

Just as Laurent was apparently Jord's, title or no title.

Theomedes might still live, for now, but it was true for Nikandros all the same. Nikandros's loyalty was to Damen first and foremost, always. Laurent would have to have been blind not to see that by now.

"He will be soon," Nikandros said. "I don't think he'll arrive in time to help his father, if there was ever anything to be done at all."

"But he'll know that he tried," Laurent said.

Nikandros surveyed Laurent thoughtfully. "You understand him better than I thought you did. That would worry me greatly, if not for your actions today."

"I did nothing today except repay a debt," Laurent said. "Damen lent me men when he didn't have to. I've now done the same. We're even. That's all."

Neither Nikandros nor Laurent himself really believed Laurent's words.

"It's more than just being even," Nikandros said. "I see that. He'll certainly see that. The men will too when they know of it. If it was your plan to get the remainder of the army from Delpha on your side, you've likely just succeeded with that one move."

That hadn't even occurred to Laurent, though it probably should have. Laurent's surprise must have shown for a split second.

"Well," Nikandros said with dawning understanding. "And here I thought that everything was a well-constructed scheme with you."

Not everything. Damen had a way of bypassing all of Laurent's intentions.

"Fortaine will continue to provide supplies to your army for as long as it takes for Prince Damianos to return," Laurent said as formally as he could manage.

"He'll return soon," Nikandros said. It didn't sound like he quite believed it.

Neither did Laurent. Not when Laurent had so thoroughly driven him away. Damen wouldn't exactly rush back to Laurent's side now.

Damen had been wrong when he'd spoken to Makedon in Delfeur, apparently. It clearly wasn't only the things one _didn't_ do that resulted in the kind of bone-deep regret that Laurent was feeling now.


	24. Chapter 24

Fortaine was made a strangely foreign place by Damen's marked absence. Laurent kept half expecting to run into him in the halls, or to have him barge into Laurent's rooms with that sweeping sense of imperious belonging that proclaimed that he didn't need to ask for permission, because he was someone to whom the usual rules just didn't seem to apply. Laurent had never anticipated that he might miss that, just a little.

Laurent rode out in the morning with his men and kept automatically thinking that he would catch a glimpse of Damen drawing his horse up alongside Laurent, as Damen often would when he decided that his own army was well occupied for the day and had minimal need of Damen's personal oversight. Laurent's gaze kept flicking to his right without his permission, looking for Damen's pleased smile, as the men followed even the most exhausting of Laurent's orders without protesting or faltering in the slightest.

If Laurent inhaled deeply enough, he thought he could even still catch the slightest hint of Damen's scent when Laurent was drifting off to sleep of a night, from where Damen had spent hours by Laurent's bedside post-heat. Even that was on the verge of fading to nothingness, though. There was no source of that scent available to refresh it. Damen's own room might still have smelled more strongly of him, but Laurent had no real desire to return there just now, given the associations it presently held for him.

Stranger still than Damen being gone was the Akielon army still being there without Damen to control them, and yet Laurent still having a reasonable amount of confidence that an immediate double-cross wasn't in the cards. That would have been a large part of why Nikandros had been left behind along with the rest of them, Laurent knew. There was no doubt that Damen would have made Nikandros promise to protect Laurent and to not let any of the other Akielons act against Laurent's or his men's interests. And if Nikandros hadn't disobeyed Damen's instruction not to send riders after his Prince, even when there was so much reason to, there seemed little chance he'd ignore a comparatively less taxing order. 

So there was no sharp uptick in the tension between the Akielons and Veretians once Damen was gone. But neither could Laurent rely on the assistance of the Akielons to the same extent as he might have before. After all, they'd been planning to leave Fortaine and ride north in a matter of weeks when they'd last spoken of it, as soon as they could be sure the men were at peak strength and would follow without question. The current stance of men like Makedon had been still been unclear when it came to supporting that endeavour, and that had been with Damen here. Certainly Nikandros was hardly about to charge further into Vere with Laurent unless Damen was there to give him puppy eyes and insist it was a good idea; or, more to the point, to tell Nikandros that Damen was going with or without him and so he really might as well come along with his armies in tow.

There had been a time when Laurent would have counted himself lucky just to be holed up inside the security of Fortaine's walls, but now it felt like a letdown. Laurent had seen a future where he could have been proactive rather than waiting around meekly for his uncle to make a move. The possibilities of that future had seemed brighter, for more reasons than one. Laurent thought of Damen, now thinking that Laurent still loathed him despite everything as a result of Laurent's words, and knew that that future was probably an impossibility.

When Laurent was in the field a short distance outside the walls running drills with his men two weeks after Damen's departure, he caught sight of a single rider in the distance approaching the Akielon encampment. For a long minute his heart was in his throat, hopeful. As the rider grew close enough to make out the shape of him, though, Laurent could tell it wasn't Damen returning. The rider looked too slight of frame, even if from a distance his colouring seemed similar.

Judging by his Akielon complexion and dress, the direction from which he was travelling and his clear destination of the Akielon camp, Laurent concluded this was a messenger from Marlas, looking for Nikandros.

Laurent tried not to feel any trepidation about that.

It wasn't until early evening that Laurent found out what news the rider had brought.

Nikandros, when he appeared outside Laurent's rooms, appeared pale and shaken, the olive tone of his skin washed out. His eyes were visibly rimmed red. He gave off the impression that the last thing he felt like doing just now was speaking to Laurent, of all people, but that he was going to make himself do it anyway.

Part of Laurent already knew then.

Laurent would usually have denied Nikandros entrance to his private sanctum, for he certainly wasn't one of Laurent's trusted men. But something horrible was forming in Laurent's chest, and it seemed that 'something' made Laurent more pliable than usual. 

He needed to _know_. 

He invited Nikandros inside and watched him sag against the edge of Laurent's desk, knocking one of the maps half off the wooden surface. 

"The bells of Akielos have rung," Nikandros said, as if that in itself was supposed to mean anything to Laurent. "I can't believe it happened so quickly. I should have been there."

"The bells?" Laurent asked, sounding slightly tentative despite his best intentions to look and sound unmoved, no matter what Nikandros told him.

"Yes. They ring when the new King is officially crowned in Ios."

For the message to have travelled by rider over this distance, it must have been sent just days after Damen had set out. Akielos was a large country. That wasn't anywhere near enough time for Damen to have made it from the border to Ios to be crowned.

"Kastor is King," Laurent said, not a question. He didn't ask the question he really wanted to know the answer to.

"Yes," Nikandros breathed. "I've little doubt that he's a killer, even if it wasn't directly by his own hand. And yet now he sits on a throne that shouldn't belong to him and apparently by all reports spent the days leading up to his father's passing doing little for Akielos other than idly seeking 'solace' in the arms of his new mistress, likely soon to be Queen, who probably had as much to do with engineering all of this as your uncle, if I know Jokaste at all. But yes, despite all that, Kastor is King." 

Nikandros went to say something more, but his voice caught in his throat. Laurent refused to let himself be similarly affected. But it was more difficult than he might have expected, for Laurent had a feeling that Nikandros wasn't on the brink of tears for Theomedes's sake. 

"He made me stay here," Nikandros finally managed to say, barely a whisper. "Despite everything, I was made to promise. I should have gone with him anyway. I knew he still didn't quite believe the danger from Kastor was real. I could have helped defend him against what he couldn't see. It was my job to be suspicious where he couldn't, and I wasn't there to do it. The Prince wouldn't have seen it coming. He never does. _Did_. But I'd have been able to tell him that Meniados, Kyros of Sicyon, has always been the type of man who would choose someone like Kastor… It happened near Karthas, in the end." 

There was no doubt what 'it' was. Any infinitesimal hope that had still been burning in Laurent's chest was extinguished. 

Laurent hadn't gone with him, either. He hadn't repaid Damen's assistance in battling Laurent's enemies with enough support of his own to actually make a difference in the end. But Laurent wasn't to blame for this. He'd told Damen about the threat in Ios months ago. This might have been avoided if he'd just listened then. And Laurent had done what he could to protect Damen even as he rode off alone, like a fool. It wasn't Laurent's fault.

It _wasn't_.

It was, though.

And now it was too late to take any of it back, or do anything about it but look back and wish in vain, as Nikandros was, because Damen had left his army behind to guard Laurent instead of taking it to defend himself, and like the idiot he was he'd gone and gotten himself killed for it.

It felt like half of Laurent's mind had shut down at that realisation. He couldn't process it. He didn't even know what to think, let alone feel. 

"The news arrived at Marlas a few days ago, apparently, and then before the riders sent to Sicyon even had time to verify it before sending for me, the ultimate confirmation came in the form of a message from the capital that Kastor had been crowned." Nikandros's breath was a gasp. "My King is dead."

Laurent tried to say something. He went as far as to open his mouth. The words wouldn't come.

What Laurent really wanted was to order Nikandros away from him so that he could find some way to deal with this on his own. Perhaps he could have finally gone to Damen's rooms again, so that he might sit and think and breathe in the last ever traces of Damen in the silence of the last place he'd seen Damen himself, looking angry and betrayed but so alive. 

Nikandros probably would have liked for Laurent to do that. He undoubtedly had little desire to display these emotional moments in front of Laurent. In fact, if it weren't for some inherent sense of honour and duty to Damen, it would have been far easier for Nikandros to have just picked up his army and left in the night. Laurent might never have even known why.

Laurent wasn't sure that that wouldn't have been better. Surely the uncertainty alone couldn't have felt like _this_.

But there was no time for even attempting to dealing with these churning sensations just now, Laurent realised. Laurent couldn't afford to let Nikandros's apparent willingness to show some consideration towards Laurent pass, no matter how much he wanted to be elsewhere, alone. He had a kingdom to think of. He needed Nikandros. If he sent him out of this room without saying anything further, he might as well be permanently sending him and his army away from Vere as well.

"My men and I have to go," Nikandros said, as if he knew what Laurent was thinking. "Within the week, to be safe. Kastor hasn't officially called for me yet, but all of the Kyroi will be expected to report to Ios to swear fealty soon enough. The summons will be on its way shortly. Things will go far better if we've already returned over the border when the messenger finds us."

It hadn't escaped Laurent's notice that Nikandros had repeatedly given Kastor no honorific, not even the 'Prince' that might have been expected had Nikandros simply not yet managed to adjust his language to suit his country's sudden change in leadership. The amount of respect, or lack thereof, that Nikandros had for his new King continued to be obvious. Laurent might be able to use that.

"You risk being ambushed, just as… Damen was, if Kastor already knows that your army has been working with me," were the first words Laurent managed to say. With the exception of the pause on Damen's name, Laurent's voice sounded remarkably strong his own ears, considering everything. He was glad. He couldn't afford to appear weak. 

"It's a stalemate," Nikandros admitted. "Neither of us has any real proof of the other's collusion. King Theomedes was aware of our presence at Ravenel, though presumably he didn't figure out the real reason for it. Kastor would have known that we were there as well. Whether he has been made aware that we've not coincidentally followed the Prince of Vere to Fortaine is a different matter. But even then, Kastor would be foolish to start a war with Delpha based solely on suspicion, especially so soon after taking the throne when his claim on it likely isn't entirely settled, given the circumstances of his birth."

"If you wait for him to make a move," Laurent said, "then you're giving him the advantage."

"He might never move on us at all," Nikandros countered. "My first duty is to the people of Delpha. Understand, I'd rather avoid a pointless war with my countrymen if possible."

"It's not pointless," Laurent argued. 

"It is when there's no one to rally behind."

"So that's it? You'll willingly serve the man who killed both your rightful Kings?" Laurent asked. 'The man who killed your brother' was what he really meant, for they might as well have been that to each other really. Even in his anger and frustration, Laurent felt a strange kinship with Nikandros that went even beyond both of them losing Damen specifically. Laurent knew what it was like to lose his brother, and to later have to grin and bear it as he stood alongside his brother's killer. Somehow he doubted Nikandros would find himself overcoming that boiling resentment and grief with Kastor, though, and certainly not in the kind of way that Laurent had, despite himself, with Damen.

Laurent already knew Nikandros's answer to his question, though. He'd never forgive Kastor, no, but he wouldn't go directly against him either. Nikandros's loyalty to Damen went deep, but he wouldn't use it to incite civil war, probably getting himself and most of his men killed in the process, as Laurent's attempt to avenge Auguste should have done if not for Damen's reaction to it. 

Without Damen, Akielos was Kastor's. Or to be honest, ultimately, it was Uncle's, even if the Akielons didn't know it yet. 

And if Laurent's plans of holding the centre and spreading his control northwards mile by mile had seemed to be stalled in Damen's absence from Vere, now they were more or less shattered. Instead, there was this. The border was not a kingdom. And the great victory Damen, with shining eyes, had told Laurent he was already well on his way to achieving as he ordered Laurent's banners hung out on the walls of Ravenel, seemed out of reach. That victory would have been somewhat hollow now even if Laurent could somehow pull it off, without Damen himself there to fight by his side.

"Marlas is close to Fortaine," Nikandros offered. "If something should change… Even if it doesn't, I may not be able to march into the heart of Vere with you, but if trouble meets you here, at this fortress, I could send men discreetly to aid you as long as Kastor isn't having me too closely watched."

It wasn't even quite a promise, but coming from Nikandros, it was still something Laurent had never expected. It was repayment for Laurent sending men after Damen, probably.

"He would have wanted at least that much," Nikandros added, and that was explanation enough.

Nikandros had only one King, even if that man had never officially held the title. But Nikandros would return to Kastor anyway, soon enough. The Akielon army wasn't packing up tonight, but that was probably to give them time to mourn the loss of their King and Prince, more so than for Laurent's sake. 

Until that moment, Laurent hadn't discerned how quiet it seemed outside the fortress compared to the usual rumblings of a several-thousand-strong army encampment. He should have noticed. Laurent might have seen this coming before Nikandros had even appeared, had he taken note of the unusually sombre air around Fortaine's exterior. He might have known the Akielons were already grieving. He might have been able to properly prepare himself. 

Laurent didn't know how he could have prepared himself for this.

Once Nikandros was gone, Laurent stared down at the map that Nikandros had half-displaced as he entered. There were notes all over the map. Plans, now forgotten, half of them in Damen's scratchy handwriting, nestled alongside Laurent's looping commentary. 

Laurent swept the map and all of the writing implements off the table angrily. He heard something break, but that wasn't enough. He didn't stop there. He threw everything breakable he could see through his blurred vision. He yanked a probably-centuries-old tapestry from the wall and revelled in the ripping sound of its ruination. A servant rushed into the room in response to the sounds of what must have been interpreted as an attempt on Laurent's person, only to nearly receive a heavy metal cup to the face as Laurent hurled it with a strangled cry. The servant was quick enough to duck, luckily for him, and as soon as he'd apparently ascertained that the only potential danger to Laurent in the room was Laurent himself, he retreated for his own safety.

When Laurent was finally done breaking everything within grabbing distance and grinding the pieces under his heel for good measure, he gripped the edge of the now-bare desk and barely restrained a scream as he slumped against it.

Laurent couldn't remember ending up on the stone floor just to the left of the desk, kneeling like a puppet with its strings cut, with his legs crumpled uncomfortably underneath him and his chin resting against his chest, as if his head were unsupported. There was a pain in his knee that probably indicated he'd sunk down onto some broken shard of wreckage that had sliced his skin open. There was a pain in his chest that didn't have such an obvious source.

Laurent dragged himself back to his feet and used the corner of the desk to hold himself up for a moment until he could force himself into steadiness. He was the Prince of Vere, he reminded himself. He didn't willingly kneel on the floor for any man, not even a dead one. 

He had for Auguste, though. He'd knelt before Auguste's tomb for hours on end, at first grieving wordlessly, and then slowly starting to share the details of his days that Auguste hadn't been able to watch unfold, as Laurent had wished he could have.

The pain and guilt that had driven him back to that tomb day after day were all he'd had left of Auguste except ever-fading memories. Feeling those same emotions, and just as deeply, towards Auguste's killer felt strange, and yet strangely inevitable. It felt like Laurent was somehow losing his brother all over again. That was the last thing Laurent wanted to experience. But although he'd grown accustomed to hiding his emotions from others, he still wasn't sure how to stop himself from feeling them in the first place. After all, he'd fought so hard against feeling anything but hate towards Damen, and he hadn't succeeded there either.

Laurent could recall Damen's grinning face with perfect clarity. Even just the memory of it brought something out of the core of Laurent. Only now it was juxtaposed against a mental picture of the way he must have grimaced in the last painful moments of his death. Laurent's thoughts raced with a mixture of memories and imagined scenarios about what had happened.

His eyes burned. Laurent swiped at them angrily.

He didn't have to imagine, though, Laurent realised. He could find out the details of what would have been meant to occur easily enough. 

For the first time since taking Fortaine, Laurent visited Guion in his cell. 

Under different circumstances, Laurent would have arrived without his weapon to show that he didn't fear Guion in the least, even though he was an Alpha, and even when Laurent was in short order going to be locked unarmed inside a cell with him. Today, though, Laurent sincerely hoped that he might be given an excuse to use his sword.

Guion had been given a mattress, a single chair, and a chamber pot. It was less of a concession than Laurent had given Enguerran in Ravenel, even though Enguerran had been of a lesser rank than Guion. Laurent had less desire to win Guion over than he'd had with Enguerran, though, and Guion had done nothing to earn more consideration than he'd been given other than just be born into a certain position. Guion certainly hadn't cared what station _Laurent_ had been born to. Laurent was happy to return that lack of courtesy now.

When Laurent first arrived, Guion was sitting on the chair. He rose as soon as he caught a glimpse of Laurent, clearly not wanting to put himself at more of a disadvantage than he was already necessarily going to be at as Laurent's prisoner. 

Laurent scrunched up his nose in distaste at the fetid scent of him, which went beyond him being merely unwashed. Guion might be an Alpha, but Laurent found himself repelled rather than drawn by his scent. It was so different to… certain other Alphas.

"You were the Ambassador to Akielos before my uncle sent you to return to Fortaine in a vain attempt to keep it from me," Laurent commented as soon as the bars clanked shut behind him and the guards locked them into the cell together.

"I was," Guion acknowledged. A sly smile spread across Guion's face. "If that's why you're here, then it's already happened, hasn't it?"

"You would have been part of the plot towards the royalty of Akielos," Laurent continued. "I'm sure you were just an errand boy really, running messages, but you still would have played your part in instituting my uncle's plans there, making sure Veretian soldiers were installed inside Ios and feeding information to Kastor and his people. The King of Akielos is dead due in large part to you."

"The fact that you aren't congratulating me for that just proves that you're exactly the traitor our King proclaims you to be," Guion pointed out.

"No wonder your son was confused on that point, if you've been telling him that my uncle is King. I'm not surprised you consider him as such, though. How else could you have justified plotting against your actual rightful future King?" Laurent considered. "You've plotted against me again now, by being involved in this, because Damianos of Akielos was my ally."

"He 'was'?" Guion repeated, interested. "Does that mean he's turned on you? Does he blame you for his father's fate? That's what you get for climbing into bed with barbarians." 

"And this," Laurent gestured around at the almost-bare cell, "is what you get for letting my uncle bend you over. It would seem it's not just your son he fucked, or at least fucked over. Neither of us quite got what we wanted out of our alliances, did we?"

Guion's eyes narrowed. "No. You wouldn't be here, looking like that, if the prince-killer had just betrayed you. It's me you're angry at now, not him." Guion pressed his fingers to his chin thoughtfully. "Oh," he said finally, and then laughed lightly. "Oh, I see. When you said 'the King of Akielos is dead', you didn't mean Theomedes, did you?"

Laurent's fingers drifted over the pommel of his sword. 

"So the prince-killer has been killed as well, has he?" Guion asked. His grin was ugly. "Good."

Laurent's sword was drawn in an instant. "Say another word that's not a direct unelaborated answer to my questions and you'll lose the ability to speak altogether."

Guion didn't have to speak just then, though. His mocking expression was more than enough to convey his point.

"What was the plot?" Laurent asked. "Who was to attack Damianos?"

"Are you looking to charge across the border and avenge your lover's death?" Guion mocked. "Yes, even down here in the cells word of the fact that he spent your heat with you has circulated. You're a disgrace to your family and your position."

"Jealous? If I recall the way you acted towards me in those last days in Arles, you thought you were in with a chance, didn't you? Trust me, I'd rather have thrown myself to a pack of wild hungry beasts than let you touch me. And you're woefully misinformed now, as always," Laurent gritted out. "You're an Alpha yourself, so you'd know if I spent a heat with one. Tell me, do I smell pregnant to you?"

"No," Guion acknowledged grudgingly. "In that case, it's just as well Kastor did organise for the prince-killer to be slain now. The way you're carrying on, I doubt you'd have made it through another heat without letting him put a little Akielon bastard abomination into you."

"I warned you," Laurent said, and instead of slashing Guion's throat as he would have preferred, he stabbed the sword deep into Guion's shoulder, putting his weight behind the motion so that the tip penetrated out the other side and Guion was left suspended from the sword like a spitted pig. Guion instinctually nearly doubled over with the pain, which only twisted the sword and caused further agonising injury.

Laurent smiled, all teeth, and darkly enjoyed the noises Guion was making.

"I did this to him, you know," Laurent said conversationally, as if Guion wasn't probably in too much pain just then to hear. "Not quite as literally as this, but certainly verbally. I sank a weapon in deep and twisted it again and again, harder and harder until he finally agreed to leave Fortaine for Ios. I hurt Damianos a lot like I'm hurting you now, and I'm as responsible for his death as whatever Akielon traitor actually cut him down. So if you really do think he was my lover, and I did that anyway, imagine what I'll do to _you_ , when I've never even been able to stand being in the same room as you." 

Laurent finally yanked the sword free of Guion's flesh, not gently. Red pulsed between Guion's fingers as he tried to press his hand against the front side of the wound and staunch the bleeding.

"Count yourself lucky I didn't cut out your tongue, or your throat, in recompense for you ignoring my warning not to misspeak," Laurent said. "If you wish for me to send a physician down to see to that before you lose more blood than you can afford to, I suggest you answer my original question. Who was supposed to assail Damianos? Nikandros thinks it would have been Meniados of Sicyon, but I doubt anyone in his position would have risked being directly responsible for something that could cause war between Sicyon and Delfeur. In terms of numbers alone, Delfeur would demolish them before they could even call for Kastor's assistance, from what I understand."

"The information won't do you any good anyway," Guion pointed out. "What do you think you're going to do with it? You don't even have a strong enough force to hold my fortress once the Akielons run away with their tails between their legs. You certainly don't have enough men to take on those same forces of Akielos, and the rest of their countrymen as well, inside their own borders."

"You know," Laurent said too-pleasantly, "I wouldn't test my patience any more right now if I were you. I assure you that my conscience won't be troubled at all if you prompt me to bury my sword into your heart instead of your shoulder, even if you are unarmed and at my mercy. And the man who would usually tell me that such things are too dishonourable to be borne isn't here to stay my hand, thanks in large part to you."

"You really think Damianos of Akielos cared about honour?" Guion laughed.

"I know he did," Laurent corrected. "Too much. Keeping faith with me even when I gave him little reason to do so was what got him killed. Now, last chance. Who was given the job of making that happen?"

"I don't know," Guion admitted, and the sudden desperation in his voice said that he rightly believed Laurent when he said 'last chance'. Laurent in turn was tempted to believe Guion's claim. "I knew nothing of that; only about Theomedes. Killing Damianos would have been Kastor's plot, not your uncle's. Your uncle intended that the north and south regions of Akielos would war against each other under two different would-be rulers, with both too busy to pay attention to Vere until we took their whole country from them in the chaos. Damianos's death wasn't something I expected. Though the King will find a way to make it work for him now that it's happened, I'm sure."

Laurent swallowed. His uncle had engineered the coup that had ultimately allowed it, but what Guion said made sense. Kastor would have been the one who had taken it upon himself to get rid of his competition as well as his father. Laurent would kill the greater threat that his uncle posed first, but Kastor would not escape his wrath even if Laurent had to ride all the way to Ios to challenge him. He'd been willing to make such a journey once when Damen had been his intended target, before he'd known him as a man rather than simply an enemy. Now he would do it on his behalf instead.

"I have your fortress," Laurent said to Guion. "I'm going to win your men to my side soon enough. Your wife and youngest son are in my custody, and if your older sons know what's good for them they'll either stay well away from here or they'll swear their allegiance to me. They certainly won't succeed in a rescue attempt if they try to come for you. For all your efforts to impress my uncle, you have nothing to show for it but a ruined shoulder and a nearly bare room with locked bars as the only exit. Was it worth it?"

Guion, possibly unable to bring himself to provide an answer that wouldn't be likely to make Laurent further lash out at him with the sword, or at least refuse him the aid of a physician, remained determinedly silent.

Laurent shook his head in disgust and called to be let out of the cell. He also sent for Paschal to come down and attend to the ex-Lord of Fortaine.

"But do feel free to tell Paschal that can take his time getting here," Laurent told the guard spitefully.

Once Laurent ascended back up to the main levels of Fortaine, and by the time Laurent made it back to his rooms, his legs were almost collapsing from under him. It felt like the symptoms of heat, almost, but in a way it was worse, because at least then there would be an obvious physical cause for his weakness. This was mental. Emotional. 

Laurent sagged onto his mattress and felt like he was plummeting through it. He was just so tired from the effort of keeping himself intact all night since Nikandros had conveyed the news. 

But he still didn't sleep. Couldn't. 

All night he lay there and remembered, his thoughts careening out of his usually iron-fisted control.

Laurent wished, for once, that he couldn't think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, I'll just be over here hiding.


	25. Chapter 25

The following morning, if it could even be called that before the sun had started coming up, Laurent abandoned his attempts to sleep far earlier than he would usually have risen. 

Laurent could tell, from the facial expression of the servant that he roused to come dress him, that he must have looked terrible. Laurent imagined that redness around his eyes showed far more on his alabaster skin than it had on Nikandros's, and so too would the dark smudges that proclaimed Laurent's persisting fatigue to anyone who cared to look. He probably shouldn't be seen by anyone looking like this, in case it was taken as a sign of weakness that he certainly couldn't afford at this stage.

Laurent sent the still sleep-lagged servant to fetch Enguerran anyway. Laurent couldn't afford to let the world stop, if only because giving himself something to do, to keep himself busy, had to be better than how he'd spent restless hours adrift in his room all throughout the previous night.

Laurent had never anticipated that there would be a time where he wouldn't prefer being alone, but lately it seemed he'd been wrong about a great many things.

When Laurent bid Enguerran to join him in his rooms, there was a long moment where they just stared at each other, when Laurent couldn't quite bring himself to speak, as if his throat had closed over while he'd been alone waiting for Enguerran to arrive.

"We don't have to do this right now," Enguerran offered, well-meaning but not making it any better with his obvious sympathy.

"Yes we do." What else was Laurent supposed to do now? "I assume by the look you're giving me that you've heard that our situation has just become less ideal than it was… before," Laurent said. That was one way of putting it.

"Yes. I imagine your plans have changed now," Enguerran said delicately.

"Unfortunately," Laurent agreed. "Of my three fortresses, Acquitart is the weakest physically, but strategically, as a base for further movement, it's the closest to potential allies in Vask, or even in Patras if they can be persuaded to abandon their neutrality, so that's probably our eventual destination. I'll ride all the way to Skarva myself to seek the Empress of Vask's favour if that's what's necessary to beat my uncle. 

"But Fortaine is physically the strongest place for us right now. It would appear that Nikandros may even be persuaded to help us defend it from his own position in Marlas, at least if it's my uncle rather than Kastor who's attacking us. And if something happens to persuade the men of Delfeur to turn against Kastor after all, we might yet gain Nikandros's full support as long as we're in a position to support him against Kastor in turn. So it might be worth staying here at least until an eastern retreat becomes more necessary. Worst case, we might be able to draw a large portion of Uncle's army here and circle around them to head north. With our present numbers, we could move more quickly than a larger force, and it might take my uncle time to get orders to them to retreat to Arles anyway if they arrive here only to find Fortaine suddenly abandoned."

"What if any eastern route is cut off by the time we needed to move?" Enguerran asked. 

"Even if Nikandros can't be convinced to offer men, I believe he'll at least offer us safe passage along the northern-most part of his lands if it came to it," Laurent said. "My uncle won't be able to cut us off easily if we travel through Akielos."

Enguerran looked less than convinced. Enguerran didn't know Nikandros. "That's taking a lot on faith."

Laurent said, "I've been taught a lot about trust recently. It turns out that sometimes there's little choice but to rely on it, at least a little. Are you equally willing to rely on my judgement?"

Enguerran dipped his head low and agreed, "Of course, Your Highness."

"Then we need to be prepare ourselves to defend Fortaine, alone if necessary. To do that, we need a clear structure of leadership if we're going to get through this," Laurent reasoned. "Just because… Damianos didn't survive whatever attack came for him doesn't mean that the men I sent after him met a similar fate. They're likely already on their way back. But until Jord returns, I need you to act as my primary commander."

"I'm always honoured to serve you," said Enguerran. 

"The army of Akielos will depart before the end of the week," Laurent informed him. "The defences of Fortaine will need to be able to hold without their presence by then. My uncle is likely to organise an attack soon after they depart, while he'll expect Fortaine to still be in some level of chaos from the mass exodus. We can't give him what he wants."

"No," Enguerran agreed. "We'll be ready. I know how to hold a fort." 

"You do. Apparently the men you left behind to watch Ravenel in your absence didn't, though," Laurent pointed out. "We can't afford such a weakness here."

"I'll make certain the soldiers will be equipped for any eventuality, to a man," Enguerran promised. "We'll be prepared for attack, whether it's immediate or eventual. But I'll be honest with you, Your Highness; there might be too few Veretian men to hold this place long-term, if the Regent throws everything at us and we can't manage to retreat quickly enough." 

Laurent nodded. "That's true. Which is why it's a good thing I intend to get us at least a few more men. Send for the men I left guarding Ravenel to join us. If we have to sacrifice it, so be it, though I suspect Uncle's focus won't be on regaining it until he's dealt with more pressing matters. We'll leave the men at Acquitart to hold it in anticipation of needing to move there. And I'll take care of the rest."

Laurent wasn't perhaps in the best frame of mind to venture down into the section of Fortaine's prison that held the soldiers rather than Guion and his family. He didn't really have the patience for the kind of subtle persuasion and negotiation that he'd imagined would be necessary to make any headway with these men. But Laurent currently only had days to not only get them on his side, but also to amalgamate them into his existing forces in an effective way. Even with whatever headway Enguerran had potentially managed to make with convincing them to give Laurent a chance, it might easily have taken longer than that just to convince them to pledge to Laurent if Laurent went about it in his more usual way. They couldn't afford such a delay now.

Damen would have approached it head on, as he did everything. Strangely, that had been more or less the way Laurent had convinced Enguerran in Ravenel, though that had been mostly because he'd pegged Enguerran as far easier to convince of Laurent's cause than the men currently imprisoned inside Fortaine. It was also the way that Laurent had initially started to win over Makedon. If it worked on the most stubborn of military men, even if he was from a different nation, blunt honesty might equally work on his own.

"You all know who I am," Laurent announced somewhat irascibly when he paced slowly in front of the series of cells holding the soldiers, letting all of the men see him.

"A traitor in bed with Akielos," one of the men was brave enough to pipe up, though Laurent wasn't sure exactly which man that had been. Perhaps it wasn't really bravery at all when the sheer number of men in the cells had lent them all a level of anonymity.

"You're understandably behind the times. There is no longer any alliance with Akielos," Laurent informed them. "King Theomedes is dead. Prince Damianos, the prince-killer, is dead. The soldiers of Akielos are about to withdraw to their own side of the border, under the control of a bastard who should never have gained a throne. I'm sure you probably believe all of those are good things. And if you really are desperate to see _me_ dead as well, they probably are. But if any part of you accepts that I'm your rightful King, or should be in a few months, consider why I created that alliance to begin with. 

"My uncle wanted me dead. I turned to Akielos purely so I would have the numbers to defend myself against his attempts. I'm sure Lord Guion, or my uncle, told you that events happened in the opposite order, but you should ask yourself whether that even makes sense. What else other than the need to preserve my own life could have driven me to rely on the man I hated most in the world, who killed my own brother? If it hadn't been for my uncle moving against me, the only reason I would ever have wanted to deal with Akielos would have been to win a war against them. And without any threat to my life, all I would have had to do was wait a year and I'd have been crowned King as a matter of course. What need would I have to commit treason? I'm no traitor to Vere. The real traitor currently sits on the throne in Arles, a pretender who wanted more power. To make that power irrevocable, he still needs me dead. And now I've lost the army that was stopping that from happening.

"I would have liked to have given you all more time to consider your options. Now there's no time left. I'll be clear: you have a choice. You can stay safely in your cells. If my uncle gets his way and kills me, I'm sure you'll then be set free. If the new King of Akielos turns around and attacks Fortaine instead, you'll either be captured or stuck like pigs where you stand without the Akielon soldiers even necessarily needing to open the cell doors to do it. Either way, no harm will come to you by my hand or the hand of anyone under my command if that's your decision. Or you can defend your Prince, the way you swore you would when you pledged your services to my father and brother. I probably don't have the numbers to oppose those who will come seeking my death without all of you on my side. That's the truth." Though the full truth was that it still probably wouldn't be enough. "The question is: will you be responsible for my death, or for my survival?"

Laurent paused to let them take it in, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day already setting in even though it had barely begun.

"I'll return tomorrow morning," Laurent advised. "Anyone who is willing to stand with their Prince should present themselves then. But be aware that anything less than absolute loyalty to me will likely get both you and I killed. I don't just want your swords; I want your trust."

Trust, after all, had turned out to be far more important than Laurent had initially been willing to admit.

The rest of the day was spent trying to fortify the castle, not to mention reassuring the men. They'd never admit as much in front of their Prince, but Laurent's soldiers must have known how precarious their situation had just become. Laurent would bet they'd never expected to be sorry for the prince-killer's death either.

By the night, Laurent could barely keep his eyes open, let alone make any further rational steps towards preparing for the future. Sleep was slow in coming again all the same, but eventually exhaustion won out. Laurent's dreams were vivid, which had become somewhat usual for him since meeting Damen, but the subject was far different than what he was used to. He imagined Damen dying in agony, and cursing the day he'd met Laurent all the while.

He finally woke up with a start, again almost too early for it to even be called morning, but Laurent couldn't bring himself to try to fall back asleep and risk further nightmares.

When Laurent emerged from the prison levels again later that morning, Enguerran and an assortment of soldiers met him. Laurent slid past them, and he saw the moment when Enguerran caught sight of the two hundred and eighty men filing through the hall behind Laurent, having sworn fealty to him. The hundred men he'd allocated to Ravenel would likely be arriving later that day as well, or by the following day at the latest.

"We have our additional men," Laurent told Enguerran. "Let's make good use of them."

Enguerran worked on integrating all of the men over the following several days, right up until Laurent received word that their week was up and the Akielons were preparing to leave.

Laurent fleetingly thought to call Nikandros to his side to plead with him to stay. They could fight Kastor and Laurent's uncle and avenge Damen together, if only Nikandros would take the kind of leap of faith that Damen would willingly have embarked on.

Nikandros had already made it fairly clear where he stood on that possibility, though, so there was little point in wasting both their time. 

In the end, Laurent didn't even have to call for Nikandros to obtain his presence anyway. He came of his own accord, with Makedon at his side. 

"Thought we should at least offer to look over your defences before we leave," Makedon informed Laurent gruffly. 

Nikandros added, "Makedon spends most of his time in the open fields, but he played a key role in devising the safeguards at Marlas. He has ample experience with how to man a fort, as well as the tactics involved in attacking one, and therefore in the best ways of countering those attacks. If there are holes in your defences, he can help to close them."

It had been Damen that had devised most of the defences at Fortaine upon their arrival, much as he had at Ravenel. But Damen had done so intending for there to be more and different men both inside and outside the walls, with particular inherent strengths and weaknesses that no longer necessarily applied to the current array of men at Laurent's disposal. Enguerran had had to substantially change the set-up since then. Laurent had learned as much of battle strategy as he could in the last six months or so, but he had to admit that he was personally still untested in terms of protecting a fort, so he was unlikely to be able to pick up on any small flaws in Enguerran's changes that might turn out to be important.

Part of Laurent wanted to say no for much the same reason as he'd told Damen that he was foolish for helping Laurent strengthen his Veretian army; they might end up fighting on opposite sides soon enough, and it wouldn't necessarily be a good idea for Nikandros and Makedon to know Fortaine's strengths and weaknesses in detail. But another part of Laurent did believe that Nikandros was still trying to carry out his last promise to Damen, to look after Laurent and Fortaine, as best he could under the circumstances. Damen hadn't always trusted wisely, but Laurent believed that he'd been right to rely on Nikandros.

It wasn't necessarily confidence in Nikandros's or Makedon's honest desire to help him (or even towards Damen's judgement of them, since Damen sometimes had acted blindly) that made Laurent allow it in the end. It was the knowledge that if things got to the stage where the entirety of Kastor's Akielon army moved on Fortaine while Laurent was still inside it, which Laurent believed was the only scenario in which Nikandros and Makedon would directly attack him against Damen's wishes at this stage, Laurent would be fucked regardless of whether or not Nikandros and Makedon knew the inner workings of this particular fort. So, on the balance, if they could potentially strengthen Laurent's ability to stand against his uncle, at least, Laurent might be a fool to turn down their combined military expertise.

That wasn't to say that he gave them free reign. He even followed them up onto the battlements himself at first, keeping a keen eye on them to make sure they didn't find anything that Laurent would truly prefer they didn't know without Laurent himself at least being aware of it. Laurent, after all, knew all about how a thorough exploration could unearth otherwise overlooked methods of getting through a fortress's defences. 

When Laurent arrived on the top of the battlements on the heels of Nikandros and Makedon, it was to find Enguerran looking out over the walls, silently surveying the thousands of soldiers who were even now starting to pack up their tents in preparation to move back into Delfeur, on Nikandros's order.

"These men would have remained here and fought with you had their Prince lived, wouldn't they?" Enguerran asked. "Even in his absence."

"I'm told that was Damianos's order, yes," Laurent said tightly.

Enguerran's expression when he looked to Laurent was one of understanding. "If you grieve for a man who left himself vulnerable in order to make sure you were defended, you should know that there's no shame in that."

Laurent could almost have laughed, though he thought it might have come out slightly hysterical if he'd let it emerge. Damen had, it seemed, managed to make at least some among Laurent's men choose to stand by Laurent regardless of what they believed was between the Princes of Vere and Akielos after all. He'd only had to give up his own army and get himself killed in the process to make it happen. 

Laurent breathed in sharply. "I'm a prince," Laurent said. "I'll be King in less than a year, if we can find some way to move on my uncle without the support of the armies of Delfeur. I have no _time_ for something like grief."

"You're also a man," Enguerran said. "You're flesh and blood, like the rest of us. It's not a weakness if you aren't made entirely of stone."

No. Damen had claimed it was actually his strength, and to use it. To embrace it, really. But Damen wouldn't have expected _this_ when he'd said that.

Laurent suspected that something of his thoughts was probably showing on his face. Perhaps Enguerran could be trusted with such a moment of honesty, but that still didn't mean that Laurent wanted anyone to see. 

"Keep an eye on the Akielons," Laurent ordered, pointing ahead to where Makedon was peering over a slight dip in the wall speculatively. "Take careful note of whether they pay additional attention to any particular aspect of the defences. I'll have your report later." Laurent retreated down to the lower levels of Fortaine, where there would be less eyes pointed in his direction as he pulled himself together yet again.

Once Laurent left, he wasn't expecting to hear from Nikandros until he and Makedon had finished doing the rounds and come back to privately review with Laurent what they'd found, assuming there was anything of import for them to share, and that they were willing to be honest about it.

But instead, the first Laurent heard of Nikandros after he'd left them was his loud cry from the battlements: "Open the gates!" 

The words drove Laurent out of the castle and into the courtyard. He looked upwards at the men on the tops of the walls, but was unable to pick out Nikandros among their number from this distance. From what he could tell, though, those men he could see looked shocked, but not afraid as they might have if, for example, Kastor and his combined armies were coming to kill the Veretian heir and reclaim their northern brethren, and Nikandros was taking this opportunity to help them break into Fortaine to do so. Though Laurent could hardly imagine Nikandros being anything but livid at the sight of the man who'd had his best friend and King killed, even if that man was now technically Nikandros's King himself.

Laurent still should have protested Nikandros's order for Laurent's fortress to be opened up to whatever waited on the other side of the gate. He was a Kyros of an enemy country who'd seemed to dislike Laurent at least half the time Laurent had known him, and was about to leave Laurent stranded in the middle of two enemies. 

But something in Nikandros's voice made Laurent too curious to do anything other than confirm the order for the gates to be opened. Laurent couldn't imagine what could cause that kind of reaction. Much like when he'd allowed Nikandros into his rooms when he'd come with news of Damen's fate, Laurent had to know.

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

" _Damianos_ ," the cry went up just outside the gates, disbelieving and joyous.

Laurent surged forward despite himself, but he couldn't see; didn't know for sure; couldn't trust the Akielon rabble to truly know. Laurent thought he might have run towards the opening gate in search of the truth and embarrassed himself if only his legs hadn't been made weak by the shock of it.

Then Laurent finally saw him, not astride his horse, but making his way through his grasping subjects on foot. It was really him. It was _him_.

Nikandros ran where Laurent didn't. He'd scrambled down from the tops of Fortaine's walls so quickly Laurent was stunned he hadn't fallen to his death on the way. Where Laurent might have expected them to embrace like brothers, Nikandros instead fell at Damen's feet. 

"My King," were the words Laurent saw Nikandros's lips form.

The Akielons who had been streaming through the gates in Damen's wake all took a page from their Kyros's book and kneeled too, while the Veretians watched on, stunned. 

As men dropped to the ground, Damen looked over the tops of their heads and spied Laurent. Damen looked at him as though Laurent was the one who'd been missing for weeks.

"My brother of Akielos," Laurent forced himself to project formally through the shock of seeing a ghost. 

"Our brother of Vere," Damen replied loudly enough to be heard. Murmurings rippled through the crowd of Akielons at the sound of the Prince suddenly speaking in the majestic plural, even though his crown was elsewhere atop a different head.

"Bring a chair beside mine for King Damianos," Laurent instructed his nearby servants without looking away from the King in question. "I'm sure he would like to rest his legs after his long journey back to us."

Even as his people hastened to prepare for Laurent's unexpected guest, Damen made his way towards Laurent. 

Damen clasped arms with Laurent as soon as they were within reach, and Laurent for the life of him couldn't make himself be the one to let go. It was all he could do not to use that grip to pull Damen closer.

When Damen finally dropped his hand to his side, though, a wave of different emotion washed over Laurent. Here Damen was, looking relatively unscathed, and Laurent meanwhile felt like he'd spent the last week being freshly eviscerated on a nightly basis every time the work of the day died away and Laurent was left with nothing to do but think, and dwell.

Laurent very nearly punched Damen in the face for that.

Luckily for Damen, Laurent abruptly recalled that they were in front of crowds of Akielon and Veretian men, with all eyes more than likely on the two of them. Perhaps worse still, Damen himself was watching Laurent's reaction keenly. Laurent had to keep himself strictly under control. He couldn't act on his anger any more than he could act on his overwhelming relief. Not here.

"What took you so long?" Laurent asked, giving every impression that he was at worst slightly annoyed at having been kept waiting for the three weeks that had passed since Damen had first departed Fortaine. "What, did you _walk_ from Akielos?"

"The last part of the way, yes," Damen replied, surprising Laurent, who hadn't been serious. "Most of the horses were too injured to make it the whole distance. And one of your men had greater need of the one good horse than I did for the remainder of the trip."

And of course, Damen would never have left any of Laurent's men behind in an enemy land while he took that one good horse and rode ahead himself, as a prince might otherwise have been expected to. Noble idiot.

When Laurent was finally able to pull his eyes away from Damen, he caught sight of another much smaller commotion than had been caused by Damen's entrance off in a corner close to the gate. Rochert, freshly returned from Akielos, was getting a slap on the back, and beside him Adelard was looking wane and as if he would desperately like to be offered a seat of his own around about now after whatever trials he'd endured on the journey. Further down the line of men, Laurent could see that a group of Laurent's soldiers who had stayed in Fortaine were full on embracing both Orlant and a visibly limping Huet, whose right pants leg was torn and blackened with long-dried blood. When Orlant met Laurent's eye, he looked oddly stricken in a way that Laurent could tell had nothing to do with physical injury.

Laurent knew the reason for that stare.

There was no sign of any other of the fifty men Jord taken with him at Laurent's behest. 

And no sign of Jord himself. 

"My Captain…" Laurent said, but couldn't quite bring himself to actually ask the question. 

"He saved my life," Damen said quietly. There was a flash of gold in front of Laurent's vision. "And he asked me to give this to you."

Laurent held out his hand and let the Captain's badge be pressed into it. The hard edges hurt as he clutched them. They should. 

"He should have been buried with it," Laurent said, his voice strained. "It belonged to him."

"That's not what he wanted."

No, he'd wanted to give it back to Laurent before he'd even left Fortaine. Jord had perhaps had a fair idea even then that he wasn't coming back. 

Of course he had, Laurent realised. Laurent had told Jord to defend Damen as he would Laurent. So of course Jord had died for him. 

Laurent's chest hurt.

"He went slowly then," Laurent forced out, "if he was able to tell you that."

"No," Damen said. "He asked for… I didn't let it last."

Laurent, who had never said the words with any real gravitas in the six years since Auguste had died, said with meaning: "Thank you."

He should have said it to Jord while he had the chance. Perhaps he also should have said it to Damen for other reasons, before now. But this was all he could do now.

As Laurent and Damen finally ascended the steps of the courtyard dais together towards the identical seats that had hastily been placed side by side, Laurent realised that they might no longer really be on the kind of level standing that those chairs would imply. Even if by some miracle the men had started to see them as wholly equal despite Damen being an Alpha and Laurent an Omega, now they were King and Prince on top of that, even if Damen's title wasn't quite as official as it should have been. 

Somehow, though, Laurent wasn't made to feel any less than an equal in that moment.

He felt mixed guilt and relief about Damen sitting beside him now. Laurent's order for his men to follow him was likely the reason Damen was still here, by all appearances. Damen was the reason Auguste was gone, and why Laurent had had to order Jord and forty-five other men who'd willingly called Laurent their Prince to their deaths, not to mention the cause of the deaths of countless Veretians whom Laurent had never known, but whom he'd still considered his people, even before he'd been next in line for the throne. That Laurent had done something that had saved the prince-killer's life at all, let alone when it meant sacrificing Veretian lives, would have been unthinkable some four months ago. But now, even knowing the cost, Laurent knew he could have done nothing else. 

Just as Damen likely couldn't have lived with it if he hadn't at least attempted to go south to his sick father, Laurent couldn't imagine how it would have been if he'd just shrugged and let Damen ride out solo, and as a result he'd never come back.

This was what it really meant to be a King, Laurent knew. These hadn't been the first men who'd died as a result of Laurent's orders. They likely wouldn't be the last. Laurent had to be prepared for that, and accept it. Even if part of him wished it could be otherwise. Even if being personally responsible for the death of a good man like Jord might haunt Laurent.

"I'd like to speak to you away from the crowds," Damen said. Laurent would prefer that as well.

"Your people need to see you, alive and in your rightful position as King," Laurent informed him instead. "And they need to hear what happened, and what will happen, from you. All they've had for a week now is hearsay, which was apparently false."

Damen nodded, accepting. Shortly after that he stood. He only had to wait barely a moment for silence to fall among the Akielons at the sight of their King ready to address them. Damen explained in a clear voice that King Theomedes was dead, likely as part of a plot involving the Regent of Vere, and that southern Akielos had accepted Kastor as their leader instead of Damen. 

"We will not let this stand," Damen swore. "Anyone involved in our father the King's death will be made to account for it, be they Veretian or Akielon. Our throne will be claimed when we arrive in Ios, the way it was meant to be." He looked to where the bannermen were gathered, holding themselves separate from the common soldiers, and from the Veretians. "Anyone who wishes to assist us should pledge to us as King now." Damen's fingers drifted to the pin at his shoulder. 

The pledges came in quick succession, unquestioning. Whatever circumstances had led to Damen being declared dead in Akielos and denied his throne even now, despite still clearly being alive, the men didn't seem to resent being kept in the dark enough to stop them from giving Damen their loyalty.

Laurent minded, though.

As soon as Damen declared that his people had had enough time to assure themselves of him being alive and that the formalities of him leading his men as King were, at least for now, seen to, they took their leave from the courtyard. Laurent practically dragged Damen back to the privacy of Laurent's rooms. 

"You are a complete idiot," Laurent hissed as soon as the door to his rooms fell closed and he could be certain they were alone.

"It's good to see you too," Damen replied with a smile. 

"I wasn't the one who was _dead_ ," Laurent pointed out.

Damen pointed out, "I wasn't either, as you see. Not quite. Though it was closer than I'd have liked. A few inches might have made that a different story."

"Show me," Laurent ordered in a tone that said he was not to be trifled with just now. Or ever.

Damen reached for the pin he'd indicated earlier in front of his people, which was as always holding the shoulder piece of his chiton up. He removed it and let the top half of the material fall loose. Laurent's eyes automatically took in the muscles, as if he hadn't already memorised the sight of them during Damen's wrestling match at Ravenel, before moving downwards to survey the new addition he hadn't already seen. 

On one side of Damen's abdomen was an old scar, which Laurent hadn't quite focused on while there had been so much else to look at the last time Damen had bared his chest (and bared everything else while he'd been at it). Damen had described it once; it was courtesy of Kastor. So, more indirectly, was the newer mark on the other side, which was currently covered by a bandage. Damen peeled the covering back without being asked. 

The stab wound was pink and tender-looking, barely closed over and not yet healed enough to have justified a cross-countries journey spent riding and walking at length. Though thankfully it wasn't inflamed in a way that suggested poor recovery or possible infection, and it didn't appear to have torn open any further on the long journey.

Laurent reached out, almost despite himself, and pressed his flat palm beside the healing gash, not intending to hurt, but just to feel that Damen was still relatively whole despite it.

"I'll call for Paschal," Laurent said distantly.

"Not yet," Damen requested. "I've already gone ten days without getting it properly seen to. It can wait a little longer."

Idiot.

"So you're not injured anywhere else, then?" Laurent asked thoughtfully.

"No."

Laurent wound back and then planted his fist soundly into Damen's chin without warning. A similar blow from Damen to Laurent might have put Laurent on his back, or even broken his jaw. As it was, Damen's head snapped to the side slightly. He blinked and looked back at Laurent, pained, and said, " _Ow_ ," as he touched his hand gingerly to his chin. "Well _now_ I'm injured elsewhere, thanks."

Laurent's hand hurt too. It was a welcome pain, because at least it was only physical.

"You'll live," Laurent said, and tried not to sound quite as pleased about that prospect as he felt. "Hopefully that will be enough to remind you in future that if you have one uninjured horse and several injured men, including yourself, you don't slowly drag yourself across countless miles on foot, risking further injury. You use the damn horse and one of the uninjured men to send me a message to _tell me you're still alive_."

"Last time I saw you, you led me to believe you probably wouldn't have cared either way," Damen pointed out.

"I sent men after you into Akielos," Laurent said, the only concession to the fact that they both knew that wasn't true that he could voice.

"You did," Damen acknowledged. The softening of his face let Laurent know that Damen was well aware what that had meant. "And I'm undoubtedly only alive now because of it."

"Then I suppose we're finally even," Laurent said. 

"We always have been," Damen disagreed. 

"Then you've never owed me anything," said Laurent. "But you came back here to Fortaine anyway. Even though you were injured enough that you should have stayed put. Even though you have problems in your own kingdom to deal with now. If you're well enough to march, why is it that you aren't already marching towards your own battle?" 

"Most of my loyal commanders and a large portion of my army is here," Damen pointed out tiredly.

"You could have more easily sent for them to meet you where you were. It would have been quicker, and easier on you while you were healing. Not to mention that I'm sure Nikandros for one would have liked some warning that you were actually alive before he clapped eyes on you," Laurent said. "So again: why come here?"

"You know why I did."

Damen's hand found Laurent's waist and gave a slow pull, giving Laurent time to jerk away if he wanted to. 

Laurent didn't.

Instead, Laurent allowed it. More than that, he lent slightly into it. He let his head fall onto Damen's broad shoulder as they pressed chest to chest, with only the layers of Laurent's clothing hampering that point of contact. Laurent breathed in the scent from Damen's neck and shuddered. Laurent's lips tingled from the way they'd accidentally brushed over Damen's neck as he pressed his nose to Damen's pulse.

But Laurent's body remained somewhat rigid despite his thankfulness to have Damen here, alive, or even the physical relief of being able to inhale that scent from its source again. He didn't quite let himself sag completely into the welcoming warmth of Damen's body, though it was a close thing.

Laurent might never have had a chance to have this. But at the same time, Laurent still couldn't fully give in now. If he did, he knew that he'd never be able to draw himself back again.

"To everyone here, you were gone," Laurent said quietly. To me, Laurent didn't say. "Your men mourned, and you let them." 

"I never meant for that to happen," Damen breathed into Laurent's hair. "I'm sorry."

So am I, Laurent thought, and finally moved his arms from where they'd been limply hanging by his side to clutch firmly at Damen's back, keeping him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. So. I'm so sorry, guys.
> 
> I honestly didn't have some grand scheme to kill off Jord. I like Jord well enough. And he wasn't even initially meant to go to Akielos in the original drafts, but then on Thursday when I was editing these three chapters I realised it meant so much more if Laurent sent Jord in particular, not just a good portion of his best (but mostly nameless to us) men. And even after that I still wrote a scene where Jord was one of the men who returned alive. And it fell flat. It just _didn't work_. It felt like there was too little human cost for Damen surviving (45 nameless dudes ≠ Jord from our POV). Then I also realised, when I looked back at Chapter 23, what it would have meant to Jord that Laurent asked him to defend Damen as he would defend Laurent himself. It was a slow, inevitable progression, because the story called for it, no matter how much I would have preferred otherwise. And believe me, I legit cried a little while writing it. So just know, I didn't do it just to hurt you, because it left me cut too.
> 
> If it helps, I promise that the only remaining main character death in this fic, permanent or perceived, is not one that will make anyone cry (unless they're tears of joy).


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if anyone had a secret craving for heaps of exposition, boy do I ever have the chapter for you. It's a necessary evil, though. Sorry. Also, I think I'd forgotten until I really ran the numbers what a horde of Akielon soldiers there are in Delpha alone. Like, seriously, Auguste my man, how on earth did you hold off Akielos at Marlas, you impressive specimen?

"It was lucky they chose to attack so close to Adygos," Damen explained. "If they'd waited until I had ridden further from any towns, there would have been nowhere to go. And if I'd faced them alone, I'd never have made it that far anyway."

The 'thank you' couldn't have been more explicit to Laurent even if Damen had said it outright.

"You should know that your men fought bravely, and that together we took out a fairly large portion of the attacking troop. But we were too badly outnumbered to stand against them indefinitely. By the time we could retreat to the village, half the reason we managed to lose them amidst the people and the buildings was that we were so few in number; easily missed. Most of your men had already fallen." Damen gave Laurent a penetrating look. "And others who made it to shelter with us were injured. Too injured."

Like Jord, Laurent thought, and swallowed heavily. 

"But you survived," Laurent reminded himself.

Laurent had imagined so many scenarios for what had happened in Akielos, most of them grisly enough that they would probably have tormented Laurent for years, as he might have deserved for ultimately sending Damen to his death. But Damen managing to get away from the attack despite the reports hadn't been a possibility that had occurred to him at all. Laurent simply wasn't used to good things happening for him. 

Of course, this was Damen. If anyone was going to be dead by all appearances and by all logic, and yet still show up alive nonetheless, of course it would be him.

"Nikandros thinks the Kyros of Sicyon was responsible," Laurent said. 

Laurent didn't agree. Apparently neither did Damen.

Damen shook his head. "They looked as though they'd been riding for some days straight, not just locally from Karthas or the surrounds. They didn't come from that direction anyway. And if Meniados was responsible for them, at that close distance they'd have called for orders once they spotted me rather than being surprised into attacking in less than optimal conditions."

"Then they were sent all the way from Ios, by Kastor," Laurent concluded. "They were probably only one of several troops sent to search for you, and probably didn't believe they'd find you at all."

There was a very long silent moment. Damen's face was pained. Finally, he said, the words coming from his throat as if they were sliding past jagged glass: "It would appear that might be the case."

'Might be'. If Damen hadn't sounded fairly gutted by even that level of acknowledgement, Laurent would have wished that he'd done more to knock some sense into Damen than just punched him once. 

"I wish I had received the message about my father's poor health sooner. I could have stopped all of this if I'd been in Ios at the time instead of here, or on some back road in Sicyon," Damen said. "Instead, now I can't even return to the palace to properly mourn my father without signing my own warrant of execution."

Even though he said nothing more of it, perhaps wary of discussing his father after the way Laurent had spoken of Theomedes when he'd been trying to make Damen leave, Laurent could tell that it affected him greatly. He tried to imagine having been barred access to Auguste's tomb, in those early days of mourning. Even now, six years later, just the thought of it introduced a slight clenching sensation to his chest.

Laurent would have liked to have said something meaningful, then; something that would have made it better for Damen somehow. But Laurent still had yet to plot out a course of action for dealing with a Damen rendered vulnerable that didn't boil down to 'kill him'.

All Laurent could offer instead was what he knew was a poor attempt at benediction: "It might only have accelerated things, if you were there. And you'd almost undoubtedly have been more successfully assassinated if you were in Ios all that time."

Damen said, "You told me there was a plot. Nikandros told me as well. I believed you, but I didn't quite accept the seriousness of it. There's almost always a plot coming from some direction, after all, even in Akielos, though I imagine it's worse in Vere. It's a hazard of being royalty. They're usually poorly thought out, and they rarely succeed to any extent."

Clearly Damen had, deep down, thought that he was relatively invulnerable, and that his father was the same. Laurent had never experienced that particular brand of surety himself, of course, but he could almost see why Damen might have. With the exception of the two scars on his abdomen and shoulder – now three – nothing else had ever managed to really hurt him. 

Damen continued, "I didn't actually realise everyone on this side of the border believed I'd died, you know. The soldiers who attacked me probably hoped my injury was more serious than it really was." It was more than serious enough, as far as Laurent was concerned. "Why chance their commander's ire," Damen added wryly, "or their new King's reign potentially being challenged so soon after he'd taken the throne, by admitting that they weren't sure of my fate if I was just going to die from my wounds anyway?"

"But you'd have to have already been branded dead for Kastor to inherit," Laurent thought aloud. "He's more arrogant than I suspected if he declared it merely an anticipation of bringing it about."

Damen sighed. "It probably wouldn't have mattered. From what I gathered over those first few days as we hid and then sneaked out of Sicyon, most of the people of Akielos from Karthas to Ios believe worse than that I've died."

"Worse," Laurent repeated, his voice sounding hollow. No, Laurent thought, it definitely couldn't be worse than Damen's death. 

"I'm believed to be my father's killer," Damen said. "They claim I retreated to Vere to throw suspicion away from myself before having an accomplice who remained in Ios poison him." 

Laurent nodded, unsurprised. "That will be my uncle's doing, not Kastor's. And that supposed accomplice will already be dead, of course, so that the truth can't come out." 

Damen admitted, "I thought if any news had travelled this far, it would be of my supposed treason. I didn't know what kind of welcome I could expect, and not just from you."

And yet he'd still come back. And now here they stood, two orphan Princes, both betrayed by family, both surviving recent attempts on their lives from their own subjects, and both accused of treason to withhold their rightful thrones from them, even if Damen had basically taken on the mantle of King of at least part of his country despite that last part. Laurent had honestly never thought to have so much in common with Damen, even once he'd started seeing him as something more than just his brother's barbarian killer.

"Regardless of Kastor's involvement," Damen said, as if that really was still any kind of question at this stage, "according to you he wasn't the architect of it. So tell me, what would your uncle do if I took my army now and rode for Ios?" 

"He'd rejoice that his plan worked out, even with Kastor determined to get in the way of it by trying to have you killed too early in the plot," Laurent said. "And then once you were weakened by engaging the armies in Akielos's southern districts, he'd likely send his own army on your heels. Once he and Kastor combined eventually overwhelmed your forces, it would only take a matter of moments for him to turn on Kastor. In short: my uncle would win."

"Then I don't ride south. Not yet," Damen decided. "My army and I will move north, as we planned prior to this. The Regent of Vere will answer to Akielos's army for his part in my father's death first, and then my brother's guilt will be determined and dealt with."

Damen scrutinised Laurent's face. 

"So will you now choose to hole up safe in Fortaine, or one of your other fortresses on the border, secure in the knowledge that someone else is going to do your dirty work for you?" Damen challenged.

Laurent narrowed his eyes, knowing he was being baited, and too obviously, but riled all the same.

And part of him was just desperate to answer Damen's question this way regardless.

"No," Laurent said. "I won't hide from my uncle. And I won't leave you to do this alone either."

"Then maybe," Damen proposed, "you shouldn't think me such an idiot for coming back to you after all. We ride for Arles."

"Yes. Once you heal," Laurent amended. "Now I'm sending for Paschal to look you over whether you're done being stubborn or not. You don't have my permission to drag yourself all the way back to Vere like a vagrant only to die on the floor of my room as soon as you've arrived."

Over the next week, there was a mass influx of Akielon soldiers as the bannermen of Delfeur called for the remainder of their men, with the exception of a thousand men Makedon left in Delfeur to create something of a barrier between the border of Sicyon and everything north of it, to join them at Fortaine. The need for those currently at Fortaine to wait for the rest to arrive was probably the only thing that stopped Damen from charging off in pursuit of the Regent of Vere straight away instead of finally giving himself time to properly recover.

In combination, there were a total of some twelve thousand men who would move towards Arles. It was ten times what Laurent had ever expected, even optimistically, to have even partially at his command back when he'd first departed Arles for the border. Uncle would be lucky to scrape together half of that from the northern section of Vere, and those men would mostly be unused to fighting united under a single commander, or doing much real fighting at all for that matter. But although the Akielons would surely be more than happy to use their advantage to cut down every one of the Veretians who would be sent to oppose them, Laurent still wanted a reasonable-sized army to his name after all of this was said and done. And in general, Laurent had no desire for unnecessary Veretian deaths. He'd rather this be a battle of individual men, not armies. But since the armies were already on the playing board, Laurent had to work out how to use so many Akielon soldiers in a way that would suit his needs, not just Akielos's.

When he and Damen sat down to review their options now that all the bannermen of Delfeur and their armies were pledged to ride north, Laurent explained, "With a force this large coming for him, Uncle's first thought would probably be tactical retreat, but he lacks options at this point. Vask won't take him, and Patras is remaining too neutral to provide much shelter, even if he could bypass us to get to Patras in the first place. Uncle's backup plan would have been Akielos, I think. But he would have anticipated that by this point either most of Akielos's army would be under Kastor's thumb, or that you and Kastor would be at each other's throats and wiping out a good chunk of your forces in civil war. I'd say you've managed to disrupt his plans, again. If he sailed for Ios now, all he'd be doing would be delaying the inevitable, not to mention making himself even more vulnerable to attack by separating himself from much of his army."

"His next preference would be to send every soldier in Vere after us before we get close enough to directly threaten him, hoping to get lucky and kill both of us, causing our armies to fall into disarray. What we need is to make him wait for us to arrive in the north before he tries to launch any large-scale attack. To do that, we'll need to play a shell game," Laurent proposed. "We split into several groups moving north along different paths. Unless Uncle knew for sure which group you and I were in, he'd likely only be wasting what soldiers he has on attacking men he doesn’t care about. He'd be better to wait until he either gets more information from his spies, who we'll of course be avoiding, or until we reunite with the others close to Arles and he can be sure of our location."

"I have no problem with splitting into sections generally, but across any great distance, without the ability to coordinate closely, and without knowing when or where your uncle might attack, we're unjustifiably weaker in smaller groups," Damen said, as Laurent had known he would. "You don't want your countrymen to die, but neither do I."

"It'll only be three groups," Laurent suggested. "As well as obviously an array of scouts moving ahead to report imminent attack and give time for the nearest groups to converge if necessary. Two groups combined would be about as large as whatever force my uncle could gather. At worst, from your perspective, that would make it a fair fight if Uncle did launch an attack. You do like a fair fight, don't you?" Laurent needled him.

Damen looked as though he was debating this. He pointed to the map and said, "Show me how it would work."

When Laurent finished explaining the framework of the plan and leaned back in his seat expectantly, Damen finally concluded, "You're always so convinced that your schemes will work. I suppose we'll see if that confidence alone can ensure success once again."

"It's not _just_ confidence," Laurent pointed out. "My plans also happen to be good."

"We won Ravenel by dressing up in mismatched armour," Damen countered dubiously.

"And it worked, didn't it?" Laurent said.

"Like I said: confidence alone."

"If that's what it takes," Laurent said.

Once Damen had signed off on it, Laurent called a meeting in which he explained the routes to all of Damen's bannermen as well as several of his own key soldiers. At the end of it, Laurent pulled Enguerran aside and handed him the Captain's badge.

"I should have given you this days ago," Laurent said. He hadn't been able to bring himself to just immediately throw it at Jord's replacement, as if the badge hadn't recently achieved any greater meaning than being simply a sign of rank. But the time had come.

"I know why you didn't," Enguerran excused him. "I'm privileged that you've chosen to give it to me at all. I wasn't initially one of your men."

"But you're one of my best, and the best qualified for this job," Laurent said. "I expect you'll be able to lead your group of men up through the centre of Vere in my absence."

"And keep the Akielons coming with me in line while I'm at it," Enguerran said wryly.

"I imagine Nikandros will do most of that work for you."

Laurent got a small amount of glee from imagining Nikandros's probably apoplectic reaction when Damen privately informed him that he wouldn't be accompanying his King, but rather would be leading the Akielon portion of one of the other groups, because Laurent wasn't about to rely on someone like Straton to cut a path right down the core of his country.

Luckily Damen had agreed that it was necessary to be split up from Nikandros. Though admittedly he'd agreed after Laurent had suggested Damen could otherwise join the group going up the centre _with_ Nikandros, rather than going with Laurent. Damen clearly hadn't liked that idea in the slightest. Neither had Laurent, to be honest.

Laurent's last request to Enguerran, before letting him go prepare the supplies and men he'd be taking, was: "Be wary, of course, but I don't expect you'll run into too much resistance unless you're called to aid the western-most group, because my uncle would never anticipate me sending my men barrelling through the country in a straight line instead of using a more circuitous path. If all goes well, you should have enough additional time to try to recruit further soldiers along the way, since yours is the shortest route to the meeting point. The southernmost Lords in particular are likely to respect you as the long-standing Captain of Ravenel. I suspect they'll listen to you when you petition for their support, especially with an army of thousands already at your back." 

After Enguerran departed, Laurent finally caught up with Orlant, as he'd been meaning to for a week now.

Earlier, Damen had asked, surprised, "You're not saying that you're willing to trust Makedon to lead a march along the length of your country without at least one of us, or Nikandros, to oversee him?" 

"I trust that he'll follow your orders now that you're his King," Laurent said. "The difference between Crown Prince and King is quite marked, as my own position has made me all too aware. He pledged to you without reservation. I think he'll heed you unless you do something significant to change his mind."

But in truth, Laurent was only willing to rely on Makedon's loyalty to a point. 

So to Orlant, he now said, "I need you and Guymar to go with the group of Akielons taking the coastal route. You'll be the only two Veretians in the group, so they'll be well aware that you're there mostly to spy on them. However, you were the first of my soldiers to make any connection with Damianos, and you have a straight-forward nature the Akielons will appreciate. I believe you can diffuse the tension quickly enough, at least with Guymar there with you, since he speaks much better Akielon than you. Just don't get into any duels. Though a fist fight or two might not hurt, if you must, as long as you don't do _too_ much damage. They like a show of strength, apparently." 

Laurent pointed Orlant's attention to his map, running his finger down the line that Makedon's group would take. "This is the route I've laid out. If they deviate from that path without good reason, or do anything that would suggest that they're not acting as ordered, you break free of them and ride hard for a town in the north-east corner of Barbin called Rampors. I'll frequently send runners to check for your presence there."

The path that Laurent showed Orlant would start at Ladehors, where Laurent had months ago paid a relatively hefty sum to Lord Guiscard on their way through to Ravenel ostensibly to ensure safe passage in the other direction when Laurent needed it, but in truth the coins were an investment to make sure word of that plan would get back to Uncle. Damen had agreed that Makedon, as the strongest Akielon commander barring Damen himself, should be the one to lead it as soon as Laurent confessed that this was to be the diversionary group intended to be the one that drew Uncle's eye, if any of the groups did.

Laurent said as much to Orlant as well. "This is the group most likely to be targeted or to run into any force Uncle might have already sent towards Fortaine in anticipation of the Akielon army vacating it and leaving it more vulnerable. Are you prepared for that?" It was right on the heels of the last time Laurent had put Orlant into a high risk situation. Laurent might not blame him if he balked.

"I might not be the best choice. I let you down the last time you sent me away," Orlant pointed out. "I let Jord down."

"You didn't," Laurent said firmly. "I know what happened. You followed my order to keep Damianos alive, and you did well to get yourself and three of your fellow soldiers back to Vere against the odds as well."

"I didn't do everything I could have, though," Orlant protested. "As soon as Jord knew he wasn't going to… He was in pain. He asked me to make it quick. But I couldn't. The prince-killer – the Akielon King – had to instead. I couldn't save him, and I couldn't even do that for him either, even though he was my _Captain_."

"He was mine too," Laurent offered.

Orlant nodded sharply. "Yeah. You've never seen a man more proud of a piece of metal in your life. Or a man who loved anyone he wasn't either related to or bedding more than he loved you, either. He was proud to go out doing something he knew would probably save your life in the long run, I think."

It was Laurent's turn to nod his acknowledgement, though he couldn't offer words of his own, his throat too constricted.

In the end, Orlant agreed to the task Laurent had set him, as did Guymar when Laurent explained it to him. 

That just left Laurent's own group.

"So what, we'll be riding straight from here to Arles?" Damen had asked when Laurent was initially laying it all out.

"That's the direction the second group will go," Laurent had answered. "They'll stay far enough to the west that both they and the group travelling the coast can be called upon to assist each other if needed. We, on the other hand, will go out this way, via Acquitart, and then Lys. Our reinforcements, if we should need them, will come from a different direction."

"Vask," Damen said in realisation.

"Precisely. My uncle will only engage us that close to the Empire's territories if he feels he has absolutely no choice. He'd have to be _certain_ that group was ours, and that he couldn't afford to wait to take us on further away from the Vaskian border. We may not need the Vaskian clans to fight with us at all; the deterrent effect will probably be enough."

The following morning, Laurent drew together two-thirds of his Veretian soldiers, supplemented by nearly three thousand Akielon men, who to Laurent's eye appeared to a man to be Nikandros's men from Marlas rather than belonging to any of the bannermen. Nikandros might not be accompanying their group, but it was clear that he still wasn't going to entrust Damen to anyone but his own people, especially given recent events.

Before he left with the troop he'd been allocated, Nikandros found Laurent and said simply: "If you let him actually get himself killed for you this time…" He left the rest of the threat unspoken, as if he already knew it was fairly unnecessary to say such things to Laurent at this point, and perhaps had only bothered at all out of habit.

Turning to Damen, he bowed. "Exalted," Nikandros said. There were multitudes of meaning in the way he said it, and in his fierce expression.

Damen clapped his hand to Nikandros's shoulder the way he would have with a friend, not a vassal, which was implicit permission for Nikandros to respond in kind. "This is not goodbye. I'm not going to die," Damen assured him.

"No," Laurent agreed. "He's not. This is my plan, after all. It's when he follows his own supposed 'plans' that he gets himself in trouble."

Ten minutes later Laurent called for his men to ride. Damen did the same for the Akielons that were coming with them.

Under other circumstances, Damen and Laurent should probably have separately ridden at the heads of their own contingents of soldiers. But Laurent would love to meet the man or woman who could successfully convince Damen not to ride with Laurent when he had the chance, especially when there was going to be relatively constant danger of attack along the entire distance of the ride. So Damen fell in alongside Laurent's horse, leaving an veteran soldier named Aktis to head the Akielons.

Where before there had always been a clear distance between Damen and whatever Veretians he rode among, now he seemed to ride fairly comfortably in the group. He still stood out due to his size and colouring, though not quite as much now that Laurent's numbers contained a significant amount of southern border men, so he hardly just blended into the Veretian numbers. But there was no sense that the others were giving him a wide berth because of him being Akielon, or being the prince-killer in particular. 

Laurent could see that the difference was in his own men, not necessarily in Damen. Perhaps, instead of the Veretian deaths in Akielos making them further resent Damen, as Laurent might have expected, the fact that their fellow soldiers – and their Captain – had been willing to die fighting alongside Damen had prompted some kind of willingness to do no less themselves. In that case, it would have undoubtedly helped that Damen had managed to play a large role in getting a few of those Veretian soldiers safely back to Fortaine in the end. Or, alternatively, the change might have been because everyone was by now aware that Damen had sacrificed his own safety in order to leave his army behind to protect Fortaine, and Laurent. It was difficult to overlook that level of support. Either way, there were clear signs that something had galvanised Laurent's men into a different attitude towards the King of Akielos. 

The idea of being able to spend the night in a fortress rather than being stuck having to set up camp out in the open was apparently enough to convince the troop to take the first day's ride at an unusually brisk pace. Even then, the group just barely managed to make it to Ravenel as darkness completely set in late that first evening. Laurent and Damen ensured the men were set up in the barracks before they ended up back in the familiarity of Laurent's old rooms. Laurent hadn't even really thought to object when Damen followed him there. The sight of Damen in this room was so familiar that he might as well have actually belonged there.

"I half expected it to look different somehow," Laurent commented. "When you were… gone, I'd thought that given my remaining numbers I'd have to let Ravenel be taken, if Uncle tried to recapture it. But here it is, just as we left it, still gift-wrapped in my banners the way it's been since the night you helped me take it."

"When we took Ravenel, I meant for it to remain yours until you were willing to give it up," Damen pointed out. "We've more than enough men to leave some here to hold it."

Laurent shook his head. "The only reason to spare men to hold Ravenel would be if I expected to fall back here. I don't intend to retreat. Do you?"

"I think you know well enough that I'm not one to shy away from a fight."

No, Laurent thought, Damen wouldn't still be standing by Laurent's side, after everything, if he was that kind of man.

In the morning, Laurent and Damen led their troops over the border, away from any traps that Uncle might have set between Ravenel and Acquitart since Laurent had journeyed there. With Kastor's armies still likely a long way to the south, and most of the soldiers inside Delfeur having been cleared out into Vere, except the good percentage of them that were riding through Akielos as part of Laurent and Damen's group even now, the worst they were likely to encounter on their current path through Akielon territory were raiders, which would be no challenge at all given their numbers. With the exception of Damen riding at Laurent's side just as he had then, this journey was utterly different to the last time Laurent had crossed the border.

It was definitely too far this time for even the most wishful thinking about making it to the last in the line of Laurent's fortresses that night. When they set up their tents in the Akielon foothills instead, Damen very pointedly insisted on placing his tent directly beside Laurent's.

"You can stay among your own men, you know," Laurent pointed out, exasperated. "I have hundreds of men capable of protecting me well enough, if I actually needed that sort of thing." 

"You think that's the only reason I might want to stay near you?" Damen asked, and looked thoroughly uninterested in moving his tent away from Laurent's. Laurent took one look at his face and determined that any further efforts to convince him would fall on deaf ears.

Laurent supposed it could have been worse. Damen could have tried to insist that they share a tent instead.

Although part of Laurent wasn't actually entirely certain that 'worse' was the right word to describe the idea of that, now that he came to think on the possibility in (graphic) detail.

When they reached Acquitart there would be solid walls between them, and any number of rooms halfway across the fortress from Laurent's own that he could set Damen up in with no real opportunity for Damen to protest against it. Laurent would gain some proper distance again then, he was sure.


	27. Chapter 27

"This is Acquitart?" Damen asked. 

Laurent knew that to an outside eye it didn't look like much. However, it was secure, even if most of the defences were new, courtesy of the men Laurent had sent ahead weeks ago, to help hold the fortress in case Uncle turned his eye towards it. Prior to that, Acquitart had been mostly deserted. There had been something to be said for that, from Laurent's perspective.

Laurent knew the exact moment when Damen processed the combination of the high walls and the signs of there having been only a negligible population prior to Laurent's recent additions, and reached the inevitable conclusion that this fortress would have been Laurent's destination when he'd retreated to the east for his heat just after they'd first met. 

He could see how Damen was looking around the hallways and picturing, probably in great depth, the days that Laurent had spent here with his cries echoing down these passages, writhing between the sheets and cursing his own hands for not being enough to entirely satisfy him. Perhaps Damen wondered whether Laurent had approached it with more willing abandon than he had in Fortaine, given the absence of any Alphas he might have had to worry about. 

Just as obviously, Damen was also imagining what it might be like if Laurent had been going into heat here right now instead of back then. Laurent would have liked to believe that if that had occurred, then things would have been no different than how it had played out in Fortaine. But a lot had happened since then. 

Thankfully there was no immediate need to confront that prospect, as they still had some time before Laurent's next heat was due.

Still, Laurent could tell that Damen was particularly keen to see Laurent's rooms, and how Laurent looked inside those rooms, even as composed and wrapped in layers as he currently was by comparison to how he'd been in there nearly five months ago. Under other circumstances, Laurent might not have bothered expending the disproportionate level of effort needed to stop Damen from ploughing ahead and doing as he liked. As it was, Laurent had no intention of fuelling whatever fantasies were undoubtedly going on in Damen's head. 

So instead of checking out Laurent's lodgings, Damen was left thoroughly unimpressed inside the rooms he was given for the duration of their stay, which were in an entirely different wing to Laurent's. Laurent had a sudden premonition where he pictured emerging from his room the following morning only to find that, instead of making use of his own accommodations, Damen was camped out in the hall outside Laurent's door, much as he'd once guarded the tent Laurent was sleeping inside, or how he'd stood watch during Laurent's most recent heat. 

When morning did arrive, Damen wasn't actually waiting for him when Laurent departed his rooms. Laurent couldn't be sure that Damen hadn't been there at all, though. Laurent could swear he could detect Damen's scent still lingering in the hallway. But then, Laurent felt like lately Damen's scent was following him everywhere he went, regardless of whether Damen was present or not, so he might not have been the best judge of that anymore.

The day was spent stocking his troop up with the supplies Laurent had organised to be kept at Acquitart in case this had been the position he'd eventually had to fall back to. The goods weren't just being sent out to the wagons near the stables, however. Laurent could see Damen's eyes narrow as he watched an array of elaborate and expensive items, the likes of which he must have known even an army of Veretians wouldn't find useful while on the march, also flowed out the doors of the castle, and eventually out the gates as well.

A courier arrived and quietly delivered a message to Laurent in the afternoon. Laurent nodded his understanding. Damen, watching, looked on expectantly.

"I have a meeting outside the walls of Acquitart tonight," Laurent informed him. 

" _We_ have a meeting, you mean," Damen corrected. "With someone from Vask, I assume."

"Usually I would take umbrage at you thinking you can just invite yourself along to a sensitive political meeting. But on this particular occasion you're going to be very helpful to me."

Damen waited silently with an expression that suggested he knew that something he probably wouldn't like was on the way. 

"Your presence will, of course, ruin everything if you strut around among the Vaskians the way you did in my camp, and then in both Ravenel and Fortaine as well, like you own the place. The women of Vask won't give me their attention while someone who looks more typically like a warrior asserts his dominance. They judge their dealings on perceived strength. But," Laurent added slyly, "on the other hand, under the right circumstances, a matriarchal society might come to appreciate that someone who is smaller in stature and can bear children as they do may be strong enough to conquer an Alpha male."

"Laurent," Damen said, warning.

"Come on. What happened to you saying you didn't mind me being in control of you?" Laurent prodded him.

"These are slightly different circumstances to what I had in mind then," Damen said.

"But not so different to you showing up while I was running drills and joining my soldiers instead of slipping into the leadership role, just so that my men could see that I was in command of them, not you," Laurent pointed out. "I didn't ask you to do that. You did it on your own, freely. You could easily do the same here."

Damen sighed. "I'm certain I'll regret this, but alright. As long as you don't intend to chain me up and lead me around like one of the Empress of Vask's pet leopards just to prove that you're as strong as any leader of Vask," Damen prevaricated, looking already weary of the whole thing. 

That was a very appetising idea, Laurent considered, titillated. The mental image alone… But: "No. That wasn't quite what I had in mind."

Laurent sent for a servant, who arrived back with a bundle of clothes. Laurent took a great degree of pleasure in imagining Damen being manhandled into them. When Damen grudgingly agreed to be dressed in them, though, it hadn't occurred to Laurent that Damen would simply unpin his chiton and let it fall to the ground with Laurent still standing right there, almost within touching distance of him. 

Laurent tried not to look, but even when he determinedly flicked his gaze back up after it inevitably drifted, his eyes still directed themselves to meet Damen's, who was staring him down.

Laurent crossed his arms over his chest (uncaringly, not defensively, of course) and pointedly settled his gaze on Damen's newly scarring abdominal wound rather than on anything more personal. "Is Paschal giving you a salve for that?" Laurent asked as Damen finally stepped into some pants and halved the amount of bare skin that Laurent had to prevent his eyes from lingering on. 

"Yes. Though the effect is probably more cosmetic than anything at this stage. Do you have some aversion to scars in Vere? You certainly don't seem to have any."

Not physical ones, Laurent thought.

"What I have an aversion to is anything that's going to limit your movement and make you less useful on the battlefield," Laurent rebuked.

"That's what your physician said, more or less, as well." That was clearly why Damen had submitted to the continued treatment at all.

Finally, an undershirt went on, and Laurent breathed an almost audible sigh of relief. Even without the outer layers, it was already the most clothing that Laurent had ever seen Damen wearing. Even his battle armour didn't have this much coverage. By the time the final coat was added, he looked like an entirely different person.

Laurent wasn't sure he liked it. The less restrictive Akielon clothing suited him better. It wouldn't suit their needs tonight, though.

As they sneaked out of Acquitart, so that neither Laurent's guards nor Damen's would insist on accompanying them for their Prince's and King's safety, Laurent said quietly, "I have to grease a few palms and do some bargaining so that the tribes might be counted on to fight alongside us if needed while we adhere to the mountainside path. I must approach from a position of strength from the outset to ensure the best result. So, trail behind me as we walk, not even with me or in front. Don't make eye contact with anyone at first. Accept whatever they provide for you unless I intervene. And remember that it won't do us any good if you try to get too involved or act like you're rebelling against my lead. "

"You want me to act like a slave, you mean," Damen said, censuring. 

"Are you feeling oppressed?" Laurent asked, not sounding concerned. "Perhaps it would begin to give you a better idea what slaves actually go through, though I'm sure that what little I've asked of you would be the least of their worries."

"Well, to be honest, I'm still waiting for you to bring out the chains so that no one in their right mind could mistake me as your better."

"Happy thought," Laurent said, "but unfortunately that's not on the agenda today."

"Just for today?" Damen said, sounding intrigued. "Then we have some interesting days in our future, I think."

"Don't," Laurent warned him.

"Even if I'm not being oppressed, I am feeling constricted," Damen complained, plucking at the borrowed Veretian clothing. 

The clothes smelled like another Alpha, for none of Laurent's Beta soldiers were built similarly enough to Damen for their clothing to fit. Neither Damen nor Laurent enjoyed that foreign scent much at all. But it would start out the night on the wrong foot for the Vaskian clan to watch someone who was so clearly marked as Akielon march into their camp when the relationship between Vask and Akielos was traditionally almost as strained as between Vere and Akielos. The clothing was a concession. It probably wouldn't be the last one, or the most important one, they made tonight. 

Laurent didn't want to say it, and certainly not in front of Damen, but he was somewhat anxious to leave this meeting on the best possible terms with the Vaskians who dwelled closest to the border of Vere and Akielos. He'd now seen for himself the number of soldiers that defended Delfeur alone, and he'd seen enough to imagine their strength and cohesiveness. There were likely some thousands more soldiers in the south of Akielos who might not be quite so well commanded as, say, Makedon's men, but who would push the capacity of the army to something that could rival Vask's vast armies. Laurent, unlike Vask, didn't have enough warriors to stand against them alone if one day he had to face Akielos across the battlefield. 

If, not when. It was a strange thought. Laurent looked at Damen and tried to imagine facing him now, as he'd always intended. It was such a distant concept, it didn't even seem real.

But it wouldn't necessarily be Damen that would head an Akielon army against Vere anyway, Laurent reminded himself. Nikandros had been willing to go back to Akielos, and back to Kastor, before Damen had turned up alive. If at some point in their campaign against Laurent's uncle, or eventually against Kastor, Damen actually _did_ get killed…

But no. Laurent wasn't about to let that happen. 

The Vaskians seemed to almost materialise from the shadows as if by magic. These were people clearly used to attacking in the dead of night, and making use of the advantages inherent in that. Damen wouldn't agree with such a tactic. Laurent had no such reservations, as long as it benefitted him. 

Laurent greeted them in their native tongue and untied a bundle filled with luxurious silks from his horse's saddle, handing it over to the highest ranked of the woman as a gift to the hosts of the upcoming meeting.

"So this is where you've been sending all those expensive trinkets," Damen commented quietly as the Vaskians dealt with Laurent's and Damen's horses. 

Laurent said. "Perhaps you should take note. There are easier ways of winning people over than, for example, trailing around after them for months without taking no for an answer," Laurent said pointedly.

"Between helping you win your fortresses and handing you partial control of most of my army, Nikandros would say we've already more than covered the part of the courtship where I shower you with gifts," Damen said wryly.

"I hardly meant that this was a _courtship_ ," Laurent scoffed indelicately. "That'll be the day. Will you go petition my uncle for my hand, and have him kill us both as enemies of Vere as soon as we're within his sight?"

"Perhaps I'll just wait until you're twenty-one and don't need your Regent's permission to be courted," Damen said.

"That's of course assuming I make it to twenty-one."

Damen looked at Laurent sidelong. "Don't tell me you're doubting one of your plans."

"Of course not," Laurent said. "But the plan we're following so far is just to get north while losing as few soldiers as possible from both sides. I don't even know yet whether Uncle will remain in Arles, or make his stand from Chastillon instead, and Uncle will have a lot more control and a lot more options when he isn't trying to work at a distance. I have twenty different further plans for what we might encounter in the north, but no way of knowing yet which of them, if any, will actually work."

"If you don't think we'll have the upper hand, we can stop at Acquitart while we rethink our options," Damen offered. It actually meant a lot that he would do that, because Damen now had substantial reason to want Laurent's uncle dead.

"No," Laurent said. "This is our best course of action."

And it was. But Laurent still couldn't guarantee the outcome. He had grown used to losing to his uncle over the years, but in that case, he'd always seen the inevitability of it coming. What Laurent wasn't used to was this kind of uncertainty. 

Damen was apparently willing to easily accept Laurent's judgement when it came to decisions that would direct the course of an entire war, but he had serious reservations about Laurent's simple assurance that the Vaskians should be allowed to blindfold them both. Damen visibly bristled when one of them moved close enough to lay hands on Laurent to put his blindfold on. Had it been an Alpha, Damen might have done something very stupid that could have potentially cost them the Vaskian tribe's support. Thankfully, as the group that was sent for them was almost entirely comprised of women, and only they approached Laurent, Damen just had to bear it.

By the time Laurent's blindfold was removed, it looked as though he'd entered a different country. They were so close to the border that they might as well already be in the mountains. The Vaskians clearly thought so too, and treated this land as their own, not Laurent's. It certainly didn't look like anyplace Veretian, with the tents gathered around them now being clearly Vaskian in design, and the women and men of the tribe dressed in a very different manner than Laurent and, currently, Damen were.

Halvik, from her dais, looked past Laurent to Damen. "He trails behind you like a lesser, but he doesn't go to his knees before me?" Halvik challenged. It was clear from Damen's expression, when Laurent glanced back at him, that he didn't understand what she'd said.

"He's a King in his own right," Laurent answered. "He goes to his knees for no one. Except me."

Halvik smirked slightly. "Is that the way you Veretians do things? The Empress would probably approve. Her most powerful pets obey her and no one else. I suppose he'll be joining us, then?" 

Laurent nodded. "I'd prefer it. He doesn't understand your language, though, so feel free to speak as if he isn't there if you choose."

Laurent instructed Damen to join him in ascending the dais, and to avail himself of the food and drink that were quickly provided, which would draw attention away from the fact that Laurent himself would touch none of it. He'd had more than enough of drunkenness in Makedon's camp to last a lifetime. Besides, Laurent needed to be cognitively unimpaired tonight in particular, while the same wasn't really true for Damen, even if Damen thought he was needed to guard Laurent's back. 

And it was clear that that was exactly what he thought he needed to do, quite literally. When Laurent draped himself beside Halvik and told Damen to sit at his right-hand side, Damen took that to mean he should nearly plaster himself against Laurent. In the middle of an entire camp full of people whose loyalty could be bought, the Alpha protectiveness of Damen's body language didn't escape Laurent. It apparently didn't pass by Halvik unnoticed either, for she looked speculatively between them, though she thankfully chose to speak of more important things for the moment.

As Laurent launched into negotiations with Halvik for passage, and for military aid if he needed it, it was clear from the slightly glazed over look at Damen's face that he was only picking up the meaning of about one word out of every ten, if that. 

It felt undeniably good to for once be in the position of advantage when it came to speaking the local language. Damen was too fluent in Veretian for Laurent to be able to lord that over him, and the opposite was sadly not quite the case, despite Laurent's best efforts. Damen had been highly amused by Laurent's accent when he spoke in stilted Akielon during the early days of their association, and he'd made no effort to hide that. "It's adorable," he'd said, and hadn't seemed deterred by Laurent's bitten off response in which he'd demonstrated how much greater his fluency in Akielon cursing and invective was compared to other aspects of the language. It probably hadn't helped Laurent's cause that he knew he'd been unable to wipe his initial blushing reaction to Damen's words from his cheeks. 

Halvik's Akielon was likely limited to a few coarse and highly uncomplimentary phrases that might be yelled across the lines in battles or raids, at least as far as Laurent was aware, but her Veretian was passable enough that they might have held at least the less delicate parts of the conversation in a language that all three of them comprehended. It was Laurent's decision to persist in the local dialect, not just because he didn't want Damen to know the content – though that was certainly true for the deal he'd struck with Halvik about her clan's willingness to intercede against Akielos in the future, if it became necessary – but also because he enjoyed having Damen visibly on the back foot. Lately Laurent felt that he'd been the one unwillingly filling that role.

"It's strange to see one such as him under your control," Halvik said when she caught the way Laurent kept glancing in Damen's direction as their negotiations ended in, as far as Laurent was concerned, a fairly satisfying manner. "I see how he looks at you, and can barely look away except to occasionally check that there's no threat to you. Even when my people fight well on the performance stage, right in front of his eyes, he takes no notice of it even though he's clearly a fighter himself. Having that kind of influence is heady, no? It makes _you_ stronger. We prefer physical abilities like his here in Vask, of course, but I suppose strength is strength. I'm sure you are considered impressive in your own country."

"Actually, in my country there's a focus on the physical as well, though in a different way," Laurent admitted. "So no, I wouldn't claim anyone saw me as 'impressive', exactly."

Not the way she meant it, at least.

"Not even him?" she asked, indicating Damen.

He's different, Laurent thought but didn't say.

"Still," Halvik said, "he's more the type we look for here when we invite men into our camp to perform the usual service for us." She glanced over to the fire, where Laurent could see the shifting of bodies and flashes of skin that unmistakeably told Laurent what Halvik meant by 'service'. Her gaze shifted back to the dais, and she took in the sight of the girl who was serving Damen another cup of some brew that Laurent suspected, given the subtle changes to the way Damen's body reacted to Laurent's proximity throughout the night, might have contained more than just alcohol. The girl's movements were slow, deliberate. Laurent was reminded of the slave in Makedon's camp who'd been feeding Damen grapes and moving against him supplely. This girl was no slave. The impression of willingness wasn't just a façade. "Yes, they look well matched, don't they? The children will be strong," Halvik said.

Laurent tried not to recoil at the thought of Damen bedding the girl. He had no reason or right to flinch from the possibility, Laurent reminded himself.

Laurent stared long and hard at Damen. Damen raised his eyebrows expectantly at finally being spared more than just a passing moment's attention.

"Halvik would like for you to avail yourself of her girl there," Laurent advised him. Dryly, he added, "Apparently, you look as though you could strengthen the tribe. Vask appears to care even less about bastards than Akielos."

Damen blinked almost comically and said nothing for a long moment. 

"Please feel free to take Halvik up on her generous offer," Laurent forced himself to add when the silence stretched too long. A large part of him wanted to wipe that last sentence from existence. But there was a niggling thought informing Laurent that this, finally, might be a real chance to stop whatever this was between them from going any further, and that it might in fact be the _last_ chance to do so. 

"Feel free to _what_?" Damen said. The words were forced out of his mouth in a shocked rush.

Laurent switched to Akielon for a moment, so that Halvik couldn't understand, to say, "You'll recall that I asked you to accept anything you were offered. We could use the goodwill."

"You've already bought your goodwill," Damen countered. "And by all appearances, you seem to have finished striking your bargains as well. What you really want is for some Vaskian girl to turn my head so I'll forget about you."

It was odd, Laurent thought, to be transparent. Laurent was used to being considered something of an enigma, too cold and in control to read. Damen, however, seemed determined to unravel him. That was exactly why this had to stop, whatever that required.

Damen shook his head, but Halvik was ignoring Damen's reaction. "Don't worry, we'll return him to you in good condition," she promised Laurent, who forced himself to shrug as if to say 'only if you really think that's necessary'.

"Wait," Damen said loudly. He looked to Halvik and seemed to be desperate in his hope that she'd understand his words as he said in Veretian, "Prince Laurent is determined to honour your willingness to invite us into your camp, but I don't think that he would personally much enjoy watching me perform with another."

That was true enough, and would have been so even if Laurent had no feelings either way about Damen; he'd never enjoyed public displays of coupling, even though they were absurdly popular in Arles.

"Eh, is that so?" Halvik said, in Veretian herself, following the line of Damen's gaze to study Laurent. What she saw seemed to amuse her. To Damen, as if conspiratorially, she said, "Doesn't like sharing, hey? And it's no secret how you prefer him to all others on your end, I think. He's strong enough for a boy breeder, I suppose. But I bet he'd give you sons." She didn't make that sound complimentary in the least.

Damen, though, simply said, "I should be so lucky."

Damen's expression was stubborn enough that it was clear to both Laurent and Halvik that he had no intention of having his mind changed. And whatever appearance of subservience they'd played up, neither Laurent nor Halvik were about to force a King into something he clearly didn't want.

Where Laurent expected her to be affronted, Halvik merely laughed and said a word that Laurent didn't understand. "Alphas," she amended in Veretian when it became clear that Laurent hadn't comprehended the Vaskian word for it. "They can't think about mounting anything else when there's an Omega around. There's a tent set aside for you if you'd like to make use of him now," Halvik offered. "Perhaps you'd like to put him back in his place, hmm?"

"If only," Laurent muttered as Halvik instructed the girl whom Damen had turned down to instead show them to their sleeping place when they were ready. Then Halvik took her leave of them.

"You can still change your mind," Laurent assured Damen. "Perhaps it's just that her Vaskian colouring is simply not your usual. Is she not blonde or pale enough for you? I'm sure Halvik has other girls who might better suit."

"What if I don't want some girl?" 

"I was led to believe women are your usual preference," Laurent said.

"I'd rather have you."

"Have I given you the impression that you're ever going to _have_ me?" Laurent asked. 

Wisely, Damen chose not to answer that. Instead, he said, "You know, even women who are 'my type' don't have quite the appeal they once might have. Before I rode to Delpha months ago, I admit there was something between myself and one of the women of the court who was everything you've accused me of caring solely about when I look at you, though she obviously isn't an Omega. And yet even if I hadn't been exiled as a traitor, and was back in Ios right now, I'd still have little desire to bed her. She might have been my mistress one day, had I never met you, but I can barely imagine the possibility anymore. All I can see is you."

"Your mistress," Laurent said. "Not your Queen?" 

Damen swallowed heavily. "No. My father would have had me marry for political benefit. I would have done it to please him, and to strengthen Akielos. Jokaste may be the catch of the court in Ios, but she doesn't come with an army or a trade accord."

" _Jokaste_?" Laurent repeated, nearly choking on the word.

Kastor's potential future Queen had been Damen's lover, of whom he still spoke fondly, even if he claimed not to want her anymore. And the Akielons thought the Veretian court was the only one that was full of treachery.

"You know of her?" Damen asked, perplexed. Jokaste, of course, would never have set foot anywhere near Vere. "Did Nikandros mention her?"

"Yes," Laurent admitted. He wondered that Nikandros hadn't told Damen as well. Perhaps, unlike Laurent, he'd been too worried about sparing Damen's feelings. "You missed quite a lot while you were travelling and presumed dead, it would seem. It turns out Jokaste has attained the position of King's mistress despite having lost your favour. But apparently unlike you, there's talk that Kastor might be willing to take her as his Queen. I suppose that's probably one of the reasons why she chose him. Compared to you, an heir whose claim to the throne is less than completely legitimate is unlikely to be able to cast as wide a net when it comes to potential brides. She'd be by far the best prospect he could expect. And he'd be her best option as well."

Damen frowned. "I feel like I should be insulted." He didn't sound particularly insulted, but rather was shocked, not for the first time that night. He didn't sound heart-broken, though, lending some credence to the claim that he was over her, if he'd ever really reached the point of being in love with her in the first place.

"Don't be," Laurent replied. "A woman willing to lay with two princes and stand by the one who betrayed the other is clearly more focused on ambition than affection. All she would have cared about was that Kastor would have been easier to manipulate than you."

"Nikandros would argue that you've managed to play me well enough," Damen countered.

"Do you feel ill-used?" Laurent asked. 

"Only when you pretend that you want to see me go off and bed someone else."

"Pretend?" Laurent asked flatly.

"Pretend," Damen affirmed. "That's not what you really want."

"Oh no?" 

"No."

"Please do feel free to tell me what I want, then," Laurent said tersely.

"That didn't end so well the last few times I tried," Damen said. "But," he added, leaning somehow closer even though they'd been near enough to nearly be touching ever since Damen first sat down, "I can show you, if you let me."

Laurent's breath hitched as that closure of the distance between them brought Damen close enough that his scent overwhelmed the scent of the nearby fire. That scent was unmistakably aroused. Laurent's body immediately answered in kind. In the background, the drums beat at an inexorable pace. Laurent's heart was pounding at double that rate now. 

"I think it's time to retire for the night," Laurent said.

For a moment, Damen looked exorbitantly pleased.

"Separately," Laurent revised. 

Damen fell back slightly, and the delighted expression lapsed into frustration. 

When Halvik's girl led them to their allocated sleeping area, Laurent recalled Halvik saying there was 'a tent' set aside for them.

There was only the one tent available. There was also, Laurent saw when he looked inside, only a single sleeping pallet as well. 

"I would appear that Halvik anticipated either that you'd be too busy making use of probably having drunk enough aphrodisiac to fuck for days to need a tent at all tonight, or that we'd be making use of your additional virility in here together," Laurent commented wryly.

"Drunk enough _what_?" Damen barked.

"What did you think was in that concoction you were knocking back like a parched man downs the first water he's seen in days?"

" _Not that_ ," Damen said with feeling.

"Still so sure you don't want to go back out to the fires and take that woman up on her offer?"

"Yes…" Damen said, sounding suddenly very uncertain of his life choices. "I don't suppose –"

"No," Laurent answered firmly.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Damen complained.

"The answer is still no."

Damen looked some form of regretful.

"You're not mine, you know," Laurent told him. "You can go bed whomever you want."

"No, _you're_ not _mine_ ," Damen corrected. "There's a difference."

"Stop that," Laurent said, more quietly than he'd intended. He'd meant to snap it, a proper rebuke.

"Stop what?"

Handing the Laurent open access to his vital organs, as if Laurent weren't the kind of person who would ever unsheathe his claws and rake through the lot of them, leaving Damen to bleed out. As if he hadn't already tried to do that once, only a few weeks ago.

Laurent said, "This was only ever supposed to be an alliance, not an affair of the heart."

"I'm told the most solid alliances are formed as both."

"We both know how this is going to end, and it's not going to be in some political marriage," Laurent said disdainfully.

"No," Damen agreed. "You wouldn't give yourself away for politics, even if it seems that you'll happily encourage me to do so when it suits you. You've made that more than evident. That's just fine by me, though. That's not how I'd want you anyway." Damen sighed. "I suppose I'll be sleeping outside?" 

"And how will you explain that to Halvik's people?" Laurent asked archly.

Damen considered. "Well, if they actually knew you, they probably wouldn't even question that I'd managed to do something to get myself thrown out of the tent for the night. As it is, most of them probably won't understand a word I say if I do try to explain."

"Exactly," Laurent said. "We're not risking causing a political incident just because you don't think you can control yourself if we sleep in the same tent."

"Because _I_ don't?" Damen asked, shocked. "Does that mean that you trust me to?"

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Well obviously I'll break your fingers if you _can't_ keep your hands to yourself. Do you think that's enough of a deterrent?"

"You can just say 'I don't want it', you know. I don't need the threat of bodily harm."

The problem was that Laurent would be flat out lying if he said that, and while usually Laurent was very good at lying when he needed to, he had never been quite as good about fooling Damen in particular, at least not when it came to Laurent's unexpected desires.

"Just get inside," Laurent ordered impatiently. "And stay on your side of the tent."

And Laurent would make sure to stay on _his_ side of the tent as well.


	28. Chapter 28

Laurent's body awakened before Laurent himself did. 

It was with a strange sense of inevitability that Laurent's still half-asleep mind noted that, at some point during the night, he and Damen had apparently met in the middle of the mattress. Of course they had, Laurent thought tiredly. Damen was now sprawled half on top of Laurent, his weight pinning Laurent's body down in a way that should have been unpleasant, but really was quite the opposite. It was going to make it difficult for Laurent to extricate himself, though. 

Now that Laurent was pulling himself into some approximation of wakefulness, he was becoming increasingly aware that their bodies were not just in contact, but were tangled together. Laurent's thigh was trapped between both of Damen's, and as a result Laurent's currently rock hard cock was settled hotly against Damen's hip. He could feel the hint of an answering hardness pressing against his own leg as well. 

As Laurent tried to shift away to buy himself space to recover some discipline over his recalcitrant body, all Laurent managed to do in truth was create a grinding sort of friction between them. There was a shock of pleasure as the movement sent the tip of his cock sliding over Damen's hipbone. The acute increase in what had already been an undeniably pleasant sensation caught him thoroughly off guard. With a tiny choked gasp, Laurent's body's immediate reaction sent his hips jerking forward slightly of their own accord before he could quite lock down his strict control over himself. 

Damen made his own shocked noise at the way Laurent arched into him, proving he was awake as well. 

There was a moment of utter stillness and knowing silence between them. Then Laurent ordered, "Get off."

"You might want to rethink that choice of words," Damen advised, his voice sounding strangled. 

Damen moved away all the same, but only enough that they were no longer quite touching, not so that there was any real distance between them. Laurent could still feel Damen's body heat caressing Laurent's already sleep-warm skin. He could certainly still detect the heady musk of aroused Alpha, and would have been able to even if either of them vacated the tent altogether. Damen's scent had by now sunk deep into the sheets under them, and into Laurent's clothes, and even transferred itself directly onto Laurent's skin, like a claim. It was worse (or perhaps better) than when Laurent had drunkenly spent the night on Damen's sleeping pallet, for the scent was so much more affecting when it was this fresh. Part of Laurent longed to lean forward and inhale against Damen's skin. And Damen would not just let him, but encourage it, folding his arms around Laurent and encasing him entirely in that strong Alpha presence. He hated to admit it, but if Laurent hadn't already been hard, that thought alone might have been enough to rouse him despite himself.

Damen was staring at him, as if taking in the sight of Laurent looking less than composed. Laurent knew what he was probably seeing just now. Laurent was far too exposed for comfort. But he couldn't seem to gather his control around him like he usually would, like armour. Damen was already too close; too far inside Laurent's defences for Laurent to have space to bring sword or shield up between them. Laurent might have hoped to regain some equilibrium if he reeled backwards or shoved Damen away from him, putting that necessary physical distance between them once more, but it might just as easily have been too late to make a difference anyway. Either way, Laurent couldn't make himself do it.

Damen shifted forward again, just slightly, so that Laurent could _almost_ feel the brush of him over Laurent's chest. The space between them was infinitesimal. Insignificant. There was barely more than the layers of their respective Veretian clothing separating them.

That last remaining gap was breached when Damen brushed his fingers over Laurent's hips, finding the place where Laurent's shirt met his pants and probing to discover the small bare patches of skin there. Damen's fingertips circled there, skin on skin, their warmth a brand. With that touch, Damen held him without forcing him to remain in place. Damen's hands might have felt sure, but his grasp still wasn't anywhere near tight enough to fight even the gentlest of tugs if Laurent tried to move away. Laurent could still put an end to this.

"If I'm wrong about this, and you really want me to stop, tell me now," Damen entreated. 

Laurent wanted to tell Damen that. He really, really did. His life would be so much simpler. 

Laurent didn't say it, though. He couldn't.

"Don't stop," he heard himself say instead.

Damen inhaled sharply. He leaned closer, but something stopped him from moving all the way, as if he'd for some reason thought better of it. Laurent breathed in his closeness for a long moment. 

"Are you sure?" Damen asked. 

"Do you think I speak just to hear my own voice?" Laurent said impatiently. "When I ask for something, assume I actually want it."

"You haven't asked for anything yet," Damen pointed out. "I've told you before that I won't touch you in any way that you don't explicitly say you want."

"What, do you require step-by-step instruction? And here you keep telling me that you _know_ what I want," Laurent pointed out.

Damen cupped his fingers under Laurent's chin and ran his thumb over Laurent's lips. Laurent couldn't deny that he enjoyed that light touch. His tongue automatically darted out to taste the salt of Damen's skin.

"That's not what I want," Laurent chided when Damen withdrew the touch. It would have been more honest to say that it wasn't _all_ that he wanted.

Damen raised his eyebrows in challenge. 

Laurent narrowed his eyes. Fine. Trust Damen to be contrary enough to suddenly start playing coy only once Laurent finally said he wanted him to act.

"Kiss me," Laurent ordered. "Is that enough for you, or do I have to tell you which individual muscles to move?"

Damen smiled at his victory. "I think I can manage to figure it out." 

Damen leaned in close enough that he was exchanging breaths with Laurent. The light puffs of Damen's breathing teased at Laurent's lips. Damen hovered there for a long moment, playfully, as if tempting Laurent to be the one to close that final gap. Laurent had never been one to make anything easy on Damen, though. He had no intention of starting now, however much he might want to move. His body seemed to be betraying him inch by inch, yes, but Laurent could still exercise at least that much control over it.

Finally, Damen's lips ghosted over Laurent's, just for a moment, giving Laurent the opportunity to change his mind and pull back if that jolt to his system had managed to return some wisdom to him. It hadn't. If anything, that tiny taste made Laurent hungry for more. Perhaps Damen felt the same about it, for his tongue eagerly traced Laurent's top lip, savouring. He didn't try to delve further, though, when Laurent didn't quite open to him. 

Damen smiled lazily as he pulled back again, far enough that their eyes met. "Is that enough for you?" he echoed back at Laurent, with every indication that he knew what Laurent's answer would be.

"No," Laurent whispered. "Nowhere near it."

Damen was moving even before the words fully formed in Laurent's mouth. Damen drew their bodies even closer than they'd been on the day that Damen had appeared at Fortaine, alive despite all expectations. Laurent hadn't entirely been able to help himself when Damen had pulled him into his arms then. He couldn't now, either. Though Laurent didn't quite go entirely pliant against him, it must have been obvious to Damen that some of Laurent's tension fell away from him. The change was almost like a small promise of what might eventually come when Laurent's control buckled entirely.

When Damen kissed Laurent again, it was, Laurent realised, now less of a tentative question and more of a determined exploration. Laurent allowed himself just the slightest brush of his fingers across Damen's strong jawline, encouraging. In response, Damen buried his fingers in Laurent's hair and settled his weight over Laurent again, pressing Laurent back slightly against the mattress. 

The all-encompassing nature of it made Laurent open his mouth in a gasp, as if to prevent himself from drowning in it. But he didn't get any chance to catch his breath, because he didn't open his lips to oxygen, but to Damen. Damen took it as an opportunity to probe slightly, tangling their tongues against each other in an echo of how their limbs had entwined themselves earlier, and now were on the verge of doing again. Laurent fully anticipated that Damen's hands would any moment now begin to slide down Laurent's body, demanding more, or would determinedly find the ties of Laurent's clothes and start to unravel him. He expected at the very least to feel the evidence of how this was affecting Damen, this time pressed against Laurent on purpose. 

None of that happened. The kiss lingered, but didn't progress further. It was clear that Damen was leaving the next move as Laurent's choice.

Laurent could throw caution and rationality into the wind and have this, and so much more; he could take everything that Damen had been desperate to offer him for quite some time now.

Or Laurent could cling to what tiny segment of control he still had left, for as long as he could.

Damen probably predicted that Laurent would withdraw, though likely not that Laurent would stop retreating as soon as their bodies were just barely out of contact. He didn't order Damen out of the tent, either. Laurent just lay there beside him, with only inches separating their bodies, breathing. Thinking.

"I wish I could get some distance from you," Laurent finally sighed, not talking about their continuing physical closeness. What Laurent wanted was some halt in the seemingly endless sequence of moments that reminded him, in so many ways, how Damen was much more than just that hateful idea of Damianos of Akielos that Laurent had carried for six years. Those moments had slowly but surely convinced Laurent that Damen might be someone worth staying close to after all.

"You think these feelings would just fade away if we were separated?" Damen asked seriously, misinterpreting Laurent's meaning. "It wouldn't change for me," he swore. "Weeks, months, years; I'd still want to come back to you just as much."

"As if I could ever get you to stay away for 'years'," Laurent riposted.

"You're a prince. You have control of multiple fortresses now, if you recall, including the one our men are currently waiting for us to return to, if they've even figured out that we're gone at all. I'm sure that you could find a way to put enough walls between us to make it so I'd never see you again."

Laurent shook his head. "Hardly. I'm not about to willingly lock myself away out of fear of anything, let alone you, when I have a choice. Besides, there are battles to be won, and as much as I hate to admit it, you seem to be good at doing that." 

What Laurent didn't say was that Damen could be all the way back in Ios and Laurent still wouldn't feel like there was enough space between them to prevent him from feeling this way.

"You do have a point, though. The men might have figured out that we're gone by now, or they surely will if we stay away for much longer. We have to get back to Acquitart before anyone does something stupid like sending out a search party into Vaskian territory and aggravating our new allies," Laurent noted as he finally drew himself the rest of the way away from Damen and stood up. The tent was small enough that he had to stand slightly hunched to fit. Damen wouldn't be able to fully stand at all. In such an enclosed area, it was no wonder they'd ended up in each other's space during the night. 

Laurent would have liked to convince himself that that had been all it was. The memory of his later actions would have made such an attempt at self-deception fairly useless, though.

Once they found a group of Vaskians who were awake and willing enough to escort them back to their horses at this early hour, the journey back to Acquitart went quickly. As if sensing that Laurent needed to think, much as he had when they'd ridden together in Delfeur, Damen let the ride pass in silence. 

They eventually emerged from a private tunnel into Laurent's rooms in Acquitart, which Damen finally took the opportunity to look around as he'd wanted to from the start. There wasn't much point in trying to keep him away from a room that Laurent barely claimed as his own, even if he'd spent a heat here, Laurent thought, when Damen had been so close and personal with Laurent himself. Still, Laurent nearly ordered him out of the room, out of habit if nothing else, before he realised that any other Alpha Damen came across would immediately detect how thickly he was coated in Laurent's scent, and would jump to conclusions. They both had to discard the clothing they'd worn overnight and bathe (separately, Laurent had to stress to Damen) before they could continue onward out into the main areas of Acquitart to assess the damage their absence may have caused. 

Even once that was done, Laurent wasn't entirely convinced that Damen hadn't somehow managed to permanently mark him for all to see and smell.

Even with the additional delay, there seemed to be no uproar from their soldiers. Either no one had noticed that their King or Prince were missing, which Laurent had to admit that he found slightly worrying, or, perhaps even more worryingly, they had all just assumed that if Laurent and Damen had disappeared, they'd gone off alone together for reasons that the men didn't seem to think needed investigating. Laurent's men had seemed more kindly disposed to Damen over the past few days, but he still wasn't sure he wanted to chance how they'd take any perceived proof that their speculation from before Laurent's last heat had been correct after all. 

Either way, no one said anything about the night before to either Laurent or Damen as they guided their troops through the last arrangements before they picked up and rode from Acquitart.

Their cluster of riders closely hugged the border over the following days as they rode north-west through Alier and then into Lys. Three more times Laurent caught Damen's eye of an evening and indicated that they would be sneaking away from the camp for the night. Vask was clan-based. Most of Laurent's work to convince each successive clan to help them was done by just sending gifts along with a message into each new region they passed beside. But on occasion, as they drew alongside a territory presided over by what Vannes had long ago informed Laurent was one of the more powerful or stubborn clans, they had to seek audience with the relevant clan leader to ensure their support. 

None of the other Vaskian leaders Laurent had to deal with seemed to question whatever was playing out between Laurent and Damen. They seemed to accept it at face value when Damen ceded to Laurent despite being the more physically powerful of them. And they didn't even seem to consider that it was a vague possibility that Damen may be prevailed upon to lie with any of the women, thankfully. 

When they were sent back to their own camp in the late evening after two of the meetings with local clans, it was amidst knowing looks, as if the Vaskians thought they knew what Laurent and Damen would be getting up to just as soon as they arrived back in their own territory. And on the one night that the clan leader insisted that they stay over in Vaskian territory, the two of them were shown to a single tent without there being any question of whether that was what they wanted. 

Laurent half expected Damen to take that opportunity to push at his resolve, or whatever still remained of it. But if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd woken that following morning with Damen curled against Laurent's back, his arm thrown over Laurent's waist to hold them firmly together and his palm pressed proprietarily against Laurent's stomach, there would have been no indication at all of what had happened the previous time they'd shared a Vaskian tent. 

Even when Damen shifted in place and it became obvious to Laurent that he was now drifting into alertness, Laurent didn't push him away. They lay there for long minutes, both awake and both silent, with Damen's breaths pleasantly stirring the hairs on the back of Laurent's neck, nearly making him shiver as his skin covered itself in goosebumps. It was an odd moment of quiet closeness before they had to return to the daily ride north. Laurent almost wished it was unwelcome.

The next morning after that, when Laurent instead awoke alone in his own tent to the sound of his soldiers moving around outside in the early morning hours, Laurent admitted to himself that he missed Damen's presence, even though they were only really feet apart even now, what with Damen's tent being set up right beside Laurent's. 

For once, it was Laurent who slipped into Damen's tent in the dawn hours without invitation. Some silly Omega part of him wanted to go lie beside Damen and burrow himself into the Alpha's arms. Damen would more than welcome him if he dared. But for all that Laurent was frequently wondering lately whether he'd lost all sense, he apparently wasn't quite that far gone, even if his legs shook with the effort of holding himself in place. 

Damen was awake, though only barely given that he was still in bed. He looked intrigued and pleased by Laurent's unexpected presence, as if he thought Laurent had finally come to some decision and was going to be the one to pursue Damen for a change. 

That wasn't why Laurent was here, though. 

"We're coming up on the northern-most part of Lys," Laurent said. The change in Damen's bearing the moment he realised that Laurent only intended to talk strategy was stark. "We'll have the choice of staying close to the mountains of the Vaskian border and going through Varenne, which I've found is already likely to be sympathetic to my claim as Prince, especially since a number of their soldiers are currently among my men. But it will certainly be longer than the routes our other two forces are taking, and they may be left vulnerable while they wait for us to meet with them. Alternatively, we'd venture across the full width of Toutaine, which will be quicker and less likely to be blocked off, but will be less friendly to us, and will probably be rife with Uncle's spies."

"And then to Arles," Damen finished. "Or, you suggested it might instead be Chastillon?" 

Laurent replied, "Uncle won't want to give up the capital, but eventually taking shelter somewhere more secure will appeal to him. He saw what abandoning the forts for the fields earned my father at Marlas, after all."

The mention of Marlas sat heavily between them for a moment.

"From what I recall of your maps," Damen said, "if we continued down an eastern border path, we'd have to basically pass by both Arles and Chastillon before we can get to the designated meeting point with the rest of the army. There's too much chance we'll be intercepted."

Laurent sighed. "Yes. That's what I thought too. We're better off cutting a more direct path at this point."

Perhaps because this was Laurent's plan rather than Damen's, who Uncle couldn't seem to predict, they barely got more than a full day's ride away from the Vaskian border before it became clear that Uncle had anticipated them. 

Two groups of riders converged on them from opposite sides, Laurent eyeballed their numbers at around two thousand, compared with Laurent and Damen's three thousand and change. It was clear then that even if Uncle had accurately picked the path their group would take, he apparently had been less than certain that Laurent and Damen were in this particular group; in that case, he would probably have committed three times as many men and they'd have been thoroughly outnumbered. Laurent's plan had, it seemed, worked at least to that extent. It probably wouldn't be enough to save the lives on either side that he'd hoped to spare, though. This would be a deadly clash for many of them.

It would have made sense for Laurent and Damen to quickly split up and each lead one of the defensive positions at the opposite ends of the group, which were even now reforming into lines braced for the attacks. But Laurent somehow couldn't bring himself to separate from Damen now. It was probably, he figured, because the last time they'd been apart and there had been an attack, Laurent had been left believing Damen to be dead. He didn't like the idea of ever having to be subjected to that again. And Damen, who always insisted on staying close to Laurent to supposedly protect him, at least whenever Laurent would allow it, certainly didn't chime in with any offer to ride away to the eastern end of their lines.

So Damen remained among the Veretian men, presumably trusting his assigned commander to sort the Akielons at the other end. In a matter of thirty seconds, both lines were ready for the charging ambush, and just in time at that. Laurent heard the first moment when his Uncle's forces collided with Laurent's own as though it were a thunderclap, so loud that he _felt_ the collision even though the enemy had shied away slightly from attacking Laurent himself on the initial charge. He had only a second to remark on it, though, before one of the men who didn't much care that it was the Prince he'd be fighting found and engaged him.

As Laurent fended off his first attacker, he heard Damen shout out an order for their right flank to arc around, clearly trying to drive the attacking troop around so they'd have to combine with their other group, allowing Laurent's and Damen's troops to work against them as one instead of continuing to be split like this. And instead of that order being ignored or rebelled against, as it would have been months ago, the soldiers of Vere instead took up the call, passing it down the line, and obeyed it without question.

Their lines held, but barely. The next half an hour was bloody and exhausting, particularly for everyone at the front of the lines, Laurent included. Laurent tried his best to fight to subdue rather than kill. Beside him, Damen did the same in deference to what he knew Laurent wanted, unless his opponent, or a stray passing soldier for that matter, got too close to Laurent, in which case he struck them down without compunction. 

Laurent would have liked to have protested that he didn't need Damen to fight for him, but Laurent was in fact lagging somehow and could probably use the extra hands. He didn't feel as quick as he normally did while fighting, and his sword work wasn't quite as pristine. Each clash was more exhausting than it should have been.

"Are you injured?" Damen called out, even as Laurent was asking himself the same thing. Even his thighs, clutched tight around his horse's middle, were burning in a way they rarely had since he'd first been learning to ride and started using those muscles properly for the first time.

"No," Laurent said uncertainly. He didn't have time between comers to check himself over fully, but as far as Laurent could tell there was no blood, and no bruising, to indicate that he'd been hit without realising it, even if it almost did feel like his current predicament would have been explained by him being in shock and therefore unable to feel the pain of a wound.

A violent horse-on-horse impact sent Laurent to the ground, and he barely avoided being trampled as he tried to roll to his feet and found it difficult. Even once he regained his feet, the rushing of horses all around him was disorienting. In the melee, he lost sight of Damen, and most of his men for that matter.

He had, Laurent realised, ended up thrown across the enemy lines. And the enemy was noticing. Laurent's starburst might as well have been a target on his chest, and his blond hair was a beacon proclaiming his identity as more than simply another common soldier.

There was an entire group of soldiers who were fighting on foot nearby. They stared at Laurent for a long moment, and then seemed to look at each other and come to a decision to work together to rush Laurent all at once. Laurent hadn't been fighting well enough so far that day to rely on successfully fending off that number of soldiers fighting him in tandem. Even on his best days that would have been quite an ask.

Laurent was no coward, but he also wasn't a fool. 

He ran.

He figured they wouldn't all choose to follow him, or that even if they tried to, several them would likely be headed off by some other opponent along the way. The numbers would fall more in Laurent's favour through strategic retreat, or so he hoped. And he was right, for instead of seven soldiers, by the time they broke clear of the rest of the fighting masses, there were only four men on Laurent's heels. But where they'd started some thirty feet behind him, now they were almost within sword's distance, having managed to gain on him. 

Laurent rounded on them when they didn't expect it, and his swinging sword caught one in the neck and made the other three wheel back for a shocked moment before they recovered and came for him again. 

Laurent was staggering, flashing back to what little he remembered of that night of drunkenness in Makedon's camp where he'd barely been able to keep his feet. The men laughed, assuming he wasn't capable of fighting, even if he'd just killed one of the number in front of them. Laurent heard the word 'Omega' being thrown around between them among the laughter. Normally Laurent would have loved to rely on them underestimating him and put them in their place, or into their graves. But he wasn't having much success at doing that so far.

"Oh, get a whiff of him!" one of the men abruptly said, stopping his attack. One of the other two merely looked puzzled, but the third man inhaled and his mouth dropped open. 

There was an odd moment of stillness when Laurent stood there panting with three pairs of eyes on him. Then two of those pairs of eyes turned to each other, and Laurent heard an animalistic snarl. 

The second man, a Beta, tried to intervene as the two Alphas attacked each other. 

And Laurent finally knew, even before the Beta caught a stray sword in his belly, and even before the third soldier purposely killed the one who'd spoken, why he'd been fighting so poorly.

The remaining Alpha, with his sword dripping blood onto the grass, turned to Laurent and remarked, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't prance about in the middle of a battle when you smell that ripe?" He grinned, and walked steadily towards Laurent.

 _No_.

It was too soon. Far too soon. Laurent's last heat had only passed barely two months ago. He still had a whole month more where he shouldn't have needed to worry about this. There was no way he should be going through it again now, of all times.

But… There had been that odd weakness in Damen's tent over a day ago, which he'd written off as just the way Damen had tended to affect him lately. And there had been the inability to ride away from Damen, or make Damen do the same, as he logically should have done when the ambush approached; that had been much like how he'd had severe difficulty making himself retreat to Ravenel, away from Damen, before his last heat. 

Laurent was an idiot for not seeing it, even if the timing was ridiculously off. Honestly, he should probably have known it might not follow a proper schedule this time. If just being in Damen's presence more often had been enough to move Laurent's last heat forward by a week, he should have anticipated that his strong grieving reaction to Damen's supposed death followed by the unexpected return of that comforting scent of Alpha would probably send his whole system into a nosedive.

The Alpha soldier didn't care that it shouldn't be time, though. He took one inhale and realised exactly what kind of opportunity he had here. So far, only one other Alpha had come close to being able to lay hands on Laurent during his heat against Laurent's will. Laurent had killed that man.

He'd kill this one as well, he swore.

Laurent kept his sword at the ready, hoping that this change of circumstances had made the Alpha all but forget that he had a sword of his own. But even as Laurent flashed his sword out as quickly as he could make his muscles move, the Alpha was deflecting it with such force that Laurent nearly lost his grip on his weapon altogether.

"I've heard talk of what the Breeder Prince does to Alphas who think they can get a taste," the Alpha said. "I'm not some soft palace guard, though. I'll be the one sticking you with something, not the other way around."

Laurent's one benefit was that the Alpha was no longer fighting to kill. He had a better type of conquest in mind, now. Even when Laurent finally managed to draw blood by opening a long slice down his arm, the Alpha hissed but didn't lash out more viciously in anger, as he otherwise might have. His actions were measured; deliberate.

This was what Damen had meant when he'd said that any but the weakest Alphas who tried to attack him during heat would have to see that he didn't want it and actively choose to ignore that. This man wasn't quite yet lost to the madness of the Alpha reaction to heat. Laurent still had some scant amount of time before it fully hit, from the feel of it. No, this Alpha hadn't abandoned rationality at all. He was just employing it in a very different direction than Laurent would like.

The strength of the next blow finally sent Laurent's sword skittering out of reach. Laurent wasn't quite put to his knees by the onslaught of it, but he wasn't sure how long that state of affairs would be allowed to last now that he was without a sufficient way of defending himself.

The last few times he'd been unable to reach his weapon, he'd played up the Omega angle in an attempt to distract. He'd managed to use the castle guard's stupidity against him by doing that, but Damen on the other hand had just laughed at his efforts. Laurent hadn't been quite this close to heat when he'd faced off against Damen that first time, admittedly, but it was clear that that approach wasn't going to be any more likely to work with this man now than it had on Damen then. And that would have been even if Laurent could bring himself to try to seduce him at all when every fibre of Laurent's being was screaming 'not your Alpha' and begging him to fight rather than submit. If only that instinct would lend him the ability to actually _do_ any real fighting just now.

"Starting to squirm yet?" the Alpha asked with a disgusting smile. "I bet you'll beg me for it soon enough. I don't mind if you don't, though."

"Even if you got me on my back, it wouldn't make you King," Laurent warned him spitefully.

"Maybe not," the Alpha agreed. "But then I suppose you probably won't get to be King either, in that case, shamed and carrying my get around as you'll be. And I'll enjoy fucking you just as much either way."

Weapon or not, Laurent would rip the Alpha's jugular out with his teeth before he'd let that happen. 

For a moment, Laurent almost thought the Alpha was going to get close enough to allow Laurent to try to do exactly that. But he stopped at arm's length, just close enough to grab Laurent and try to press him down to the ground. Laurent struggled against it, but he felt like his strength was already half sapped. He struggled against the inexorable pressure, and shuddered when the Alpha laughed at his efforts and proved just how ineffectual Laurent's attempt to fight him was by shifting his grip so that he was only maintaining his hold on Laurent with one hand, while the other cupped harshly at the front of Laurent's pants. When he clearly felt how uninterested Laurent was, he crept his hand back further.

"Not dripping for it just yet," the Alpha remarked. "It won't be long now, though."

When Laurent did end up flat on his back, it was because the entire weight of the Alpha suddenly slumped against him, unsupported. Laurent immediately struggled to get out from under him, and surprisingly succeeded this time. He saw why a moment later.

There was a sword sticking out of the Alpha's back.

Twenty feet away, Damen was standing now weaponless, staring at Laurent with an equal expression of shock to the one that must have been showing on Laurent face. 

How had he even… 

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had, and he was here.

For once, Laurent would very much have liked to be the one to close the distance between them. As it was, he couldn't stop his legs from shaking long enough to climb to his feet.

"You're alright?" Damen asked tentatively as he approached. His eyes flicked over Laurent's body, seeing that he was uninjured and still fully dressed. Laurent imagined Damen might be suddenly acknowledging some of the benefits of Veretian layers.

"In a manner of speaking," Laurent said as he took Damen's outstretched hand and let himself be helped up. 

With their hands still clasped, Damen pulled him in close and breathed him in deeply, reassuring himself. Then he said abruptly, " _Laurent_ ," his tone warning.

He didn't have to say anything more, though. For once Laurent knew before Damen had.

"I have to leave," Laurent announced. "Now. Get me a horse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let's chat about how Laurent totally would've eviscerated that Alpha eventually if silly Damen hadn't intervened before he could. I mean, I'm sure there's absolutely nothing else about this or the upcoming chapter that anyone would possibly want to comment on… XD


	29. Chapter 29

Laurent was waiting very patiently, if he did say so himself, for Damen to go fetch him a ride. Damen, on the other hand, was looking at him as though Laurent were crazy for thinking that Damen might leave him alone for even the short amount of time it would take to secure a horse. 

When Damen hesitated for too long, Laurent added, "Or would you prefer me to wade back into the hordes of soldiers to get a horse myself?"

That possibility seemed to spur Damen into motion. Once he re-joined the edge of the fighting, Laurent watched as Damen managed to hook the knee of a soldier wearing the Regent's colours and summarily yank him from his mount. Before the stunned soldier could even roll off his back, Damen had already swung himself up into the saddle and absconded with the horse. Laurent had to admire the bloodless efficiency of it, though some small part of him was disappointed that Damen didn't try his ridiculous sword-throwing trick again, now that Laurent had a better viewpoint from which to watch.

When he arrived back at Laurent's side, Damen didn't dismount and pass the horse's reins over to Laurent, but rather held out his hand in an offer for Laurent to join him.

"Laurent," Damen said when it became clear that Laurent was now the one who was hesitating. "You're not leaving me behind."

Laurent tried to imagine making himself ride away from Damen now. He hadn't managed it at the start of the battle, or even at Fortaine before his last heat, when he'd still had almost a whole day before it was going to fully hit and he and Damen had done nothing more by that point than dance around each other anyway. It would be even more significantly difficult to make himself leave him behind now.

Even so, Laurent reminded both of them, "There's a battle going on. Don't you think someone should actually command it?"

"Don't worry, Aktis is already handling the Akielon front, and while I was getting the horse I managed to shout across a message to be relayed to your man Rochert; of this group, he seems to me to be your best choice of leader. He's the one you left in charge of your camp when you first came to Akielos to meet me, as I understand it."

"Dare I ask if you were slightly more discreet with your message than saying: your Prince is going into heat and we're both off to deal with it together for a few days," Laurent said dryly, fairly certain he already knew the answer. 

Damen looked sheepish. "Well I had to give a reason why they'd have to not only hold the line in our absence but also camp nearby and wait for us for a few days after they win the battle, didn't I?"

Laurent said, "And you're so sure they're still going to win this fight if we both just abandon them now, are you? Our best commanders – the ones most capable of leading in our absence – are by design in the other two groups. I trust these men to fight and succeed on their own if this remains a fairly straight-forward battle, even if it is still more or less on two fronts. But if something changes drastically, like if my uncle arranged to hit them with another wave of soldiers at some point, then without optimal leadership we may be leaving these men to die." 

"Do you think I wouldn't sacrifice three thousand men for your safety in a heartbeat, if it came to that?" Damen asked fiercely. "I won't be convinced to let you ride off into potential danger alone."

Laurent huffed. "You're such a fool."

"Only for you," Damen said. 

Laurent had never expected to meet someone who was able to out-stubborn him, but Damen did often seem to exceed expectations. Even if Laurent tried to get another horse, or even by some miracle managed to knock Damen off this one and took it for himself, Damen would just go claim another mount and follow him anyway. The only way to stop him would be to grievously injure or kill him, and Laurent certainly wasn't keen to do either of those things just now. 

So Laurent got a grip on the horse and stepped into the stirrup Damen had let fall free for his use. Laurent's shaking legs barely supported him as he swung his body up behind Damen's and settled in pressed up behind him, with only their light riding armour keeping Laurent from relaxing entirely against him in reaction to being so close to this Alpha ( _his_ Alpha, all his instincts proclaimed) when, under other circumstances, he might have been still trapped underneath a far less welcome one.

"Where to?" Damen asked as he slid his foot back into the stirrup and he held the reins at the ready.

Uncle would have more influence in this region than he'd had further south or closer to the Vaskian border. He'd also have more Alphas on his payroll milling around, willing to act if they happened by chance to spot Laurent. There would be the potential for attack anywhere they went. What Laurent needed about now was some solid walls to lock himself behind.

"Obviously, this is poor timing," Laurent said, which was possibly the biggest understatement he'd uttered in his life. "We'll have to retreat to the nearest town where we might find shelter: Rouilly."

As soon as Laurent voiced the town's name, he could tell that Damen recalled the details of Laurent's maps just as clearly as Laurent himself did. Rouilly was three hours ride away, at least.

Damen said nothing, but even from his position at Damen's back, Laurent could tell that Damen's countenance spoke loudly enough on its own.

The horse was ridden far harder than they otherwise would have pushed it, in a perhaps vain attempt to make it the distance in time. Even so, Laurent could see Damen starting to scope out the landscape for more than just potential signs of danger as soon as they got far enough away from the battle that Laurent might be safe from whatever Alphas survived it.

Laurent couldn't stop himself from shifting uncomfortably in the saddle as the ride stretched on towards the end of the first hour, though he did manage to stifle the whine that might otherwise have broken free from his throat. Damen's search became progressively more intent.

"Over there. That's defensible," Damen suggested, sounding relieved.

Damen had pointed out an outcropping that, if Laurent were feeling charitable, he might call a shallow cave. It was only barely deep enough to shelter a few men gathered tightly underneath the overhang if it rained. It was, more importantly, wide-mouthed enough that it would do little more than slightly bottleneck a determined group of Alphas, depending on their numbers. Nor would it provide any barrier at all between Laurent and Damen, who would at best have to position himself in the open mouth of the cave just a few feet from Laurent to be able to shield him if needed. 

Laurent had thought, when he'd imagined the possible circumstances of his next heat in anything but fevered dreams, that he might have taken Arles by then, and been safe inside the walls of his own palace, which was finally under his control rather than Uncle's. At the very least, he'd thought there would be the thin canvas of a tent and a bunch of Beta guards to separate him and Damen, and perhaps chains or ropes to hold Laurent back the way they had in Fortaine. There was none of that here. All that would keep them apart was will power.

Laurent already felt like he didn't have an excessive amount of that available to him right at this moment.

But Laurent had to admit, based on how he was leaning more heavily into Damen's back by the minute, that their other options at this point were entirely open ground, which was clearly out of the question, or Laurent being deep into his heat by the time they rode into the town, which would draw far too much attention for them to risk it. And that was assuming the horse could even keep this pace for that much longer anyway, and that Laurent could keep riding once the worst of it began.

"This is a stupid idea," Laurent said. "I'm not surprised you came up with it." 

Damen took that as permission to pull the horse to a halt.

Once they'd both swung off the horse, Damen more lithely than Laurent for once, Damen tied the horse's reins to some protruding roots partway inside the outcropping, so that the animal would be mostly out of sight and less likely to act as a lure for anyone passing by. He poured water from his flask into some shallow curved bark he found nearby to keep the exhausted animal alive so they didn't lose their way out of here. Then he turned back to Laurent, who was barely still standing at this point. 

As Damen approached, Laurent warned, "If you try to carry me, you'll regret it."

Damen smiled wryly and held out a hand. Laurent grudgingly took it and found himself leaning up against Damen far more heavily than he would have liked, partly out of necessity, and partly because he couldn't quite stop himself from taking that comfort.

"Whatever fantasies you've been harbouring, you should know that you're not going to be fucking me in a cave like a savage," Laurent warned him.

"This isn't about what I want," Damen pointed out, making something warm bloom in Laurent's chest that he couldn't entirely write off as the effect of heat. "But even if it was, the only reason I want the cave is to make it easier to guard you and kill any Alphas that come within a mile of you."

"There's already an Alpha within considerably less than a mile of me," Laurent said.

Damen promised, "Even if I'm just a few feet away from you, I can make sure I don't come any closer."

"That promise isn't going to do us much good when I inevitably end up plastered all over you," Laurent said sharply. 

Damen's pupils visibly dilated at the implications. "You used chains in Fortaine," he remembered. "Your wrist was bruised from struggling against it."

"Yes. Obviously there aren't any similar options available here. I'm not going to be able to stay in one place with any ease." I'm not going to make this easy on either of us, Laurent meant.

Laurent envisaged the way his body, with nothing to stop it, would draw him towards what he could no longer deny that he wanted, until at some point he grew too worn out from fighting against himself to keep from fully giving in. Laurent couldn't stand the thought of the way he'd probably end up crawling piteously to Damen on his knees in the dirt, even if Damen would hopefully still stop him from doing anything even worse than that, and regardless of whether Damen would judge him for it.

"Just tell me what you want from me and I'll do it," Damen swore.

Laurent didn't know.

No, that wasn't precisely true. Laurent knew exactly what he wanted from Damen at this point. But he also knew that if he actually got it, it would only be a temporary satisfaction. Three days of pleasure weren't worth a lifetime of consequences, including the very real possibility that he'd lose the throne he'd been fighting so hard to regain.

But there might be some compromise to be had.

"How well can you control yourself?" Laurent asked. "What if you were actually inside the cave?"

Damen's breath suddenly turned short. "With you?" he clarified.

"No," Laurent said sarcastically, some of his frustration coming out, "alone, while I writhed around out in the open. Obviously _with me_ , idiot."

"Could I stop myself from touching you if I had to actually watch you touch yourself all through your heat?" Damen asked sceptically. It very much sounded like the answer was going to be 'probably not'.

"No," Laurent corrected. "Could you touch me, but not fuck me?" 

"Oh," Damen said, his voice reedy. "Right. Obviously."

"Damen," Laurent prompted impatiently when Damen was silent for a long moment. They were on something of a limited timetable here, after all. Sweat was already starting to slide down Laurent's back.

"Sorry," Damen said. "I think my brain stopped working for a minute there."

"You should be used to that by now."

"Not that I'm complaining about this idea," Damen said, ignoring Laurent's comment. "I'm _really not_. But how will this make things better?" 

Laurent sighed. "I don't know for sure that it will. But if you're with me from the start, I don't think I'll end up half as desperate." The reason things had been so bad for Laurent last heat was that he'd known Damen was out there and he couldn't get to him. "It might be better for me to make the decision now, while both of us still have some reasonable amount of control, if it means maybe keeping more of that control throughout the heat as a result."

"That's a good plan," Damen said seriously. "I think it's your best plan ever, in fact."

"Of course you do," said Laurent mockingly. "It's the kind of idiotic plan _you'd_ probably come up with. But it might be the best we've got right now."

"Can you trust me to do this?" Damen asked. "If you'd prefer that I take position outside the cave instead, now would be the time to make that call, before you can't anymore."

Perhaps he should have wanted that, rather than craving Damen's much closer presence, after what had happened just over an hour ago. He should potentially have been less than willing to be so exposed in the presence of an Alpha, and to have that Alpha touch him, after that. But this was Damen. Somehow, he always managed to be the exception. Laurent found that, even now, he didn't fear him. As always, he was more a comfort than a threat, even when it should have been otherwise.

"As long as you remember that you're not fucking me when I'm like this," Laurent reminded him. "I'll kill you first." Or, actually, Laurent was more likely to kill him afterwards. At the time, he'd probably want him to continue quite a lot. That was the problem.

"I could keep my clothes on so you could be sure I wouldn't," Damen offered.

Laurent laughed scornfully, reaching out and plucking demonstratively at the scrap of material they called clothing in Akielos, which was barely covering Damen's thighs. "You _will_ keep your clothes on, yes, but it's not exactly an impenetrable barrier, is it, even if you left the armour on. While you're at it, why not just promise you'll pull out before you knot? I've heard stories about how well such methods work in preventing bastards in your country."

"How about this: on my honour, I won't fuck you," Damen promised.

"Your honour," Laurent sighed. "Always it comes to that."

It was still sometimes hard to admit that, despite everything, Laurent was now well aware that Damen was one of the two most honourable men Laurent had ever met in his life. 

Damen insisted, "You've already seen that I can control myself."

"Yes, up a hallway and with something sharp sticking into you to divert your attention," Laurent said. "This is a little different."

"Here," Damen said. He held out a knife with the hilt pointing towards Laurent, an offer. It was the same knife that Laurent had once used to kill an Alpha at the beginning of his first heat. It was also the same knife that had come close to slitting Damen's throat. Damen hadn't returned it to Laurent's custody then, even after he'd released Laurent. He'd been carrying it with him, it appeared. But Damen was trusting Laurent to have it on hand now, despite their history with it.

"Something sharp to stick into me. Just in case," Damen explained. 

"All right. You'll stay in here with me," Laurent finally said.

"And if I'm staying, will I be giving you a hand?" Damen asked, obviously wanting to be completely clear about what Laurent was asking for. That, or he wanted to draw this out to torture Laurent, who was just minutes away from ripping his clothing off if he had to. "I have two, and I'm told I'm rather good with them."

"You were a prince, now a king," Laurent answered through gritted teeth, fisting his hands in the material of his pants to stop himself from reaching for their laces instead. "Your conquests would all have told you that you were talented even if you were so incompetent that they had to see a physician afterwards."

Damen only looked amused. "Obviously I'm in need of a fellow prince who won't hesitate to provide an objective assessment of my skill."

"Well, that certainly sounds like a ringing endorsement for why I should let you have your way with me. How could I resist?" Laurent said sardonically.

"I don't know how you are resisting, actually." Damen sounded suddenly serious. "Not me, I mean, but _everything_. You haven't even loosened your clothing. You've got to be hurting by now. And I wasn't joking; I'm at your disposal. Whatever would make this easier for you."

"How selfless of you," Laurent said. "Fine. You will use your hands on me. You will get me through this without doing anything that would put my future rule of Vere at risk," Laurent ordered. "If you try to put your cock anywhere near me, I won't give you a quick death when I get free of you. Do you understand?"

Laurent gave him his fiercest glare, even as his body twisted itself uncomfortably.

Even before he saw that Damen was eagerly nodding, Laurent was already tearing at his clothing. The armour was quick to be tossed aside, but the ties to Laurent's trousers then proved nearly impenetrable. When his desperate fumbling didn't make enough of an impact, he grabbed the knife Damen had offered him and viciously sawed through the laces holding his clothing closed in the space of about a minute. 

"Let me," Damen offered when Laurent had trouble shucking his shirt. He gently gripped the material and lifted it over Laurent's head, brushing his thumb past Laurent's cheekbone along the way. Even that small contact was apparently enough to make Laurent shudder when he was this close to losing himself to heat.

When Laurent squirmed out of his pants at long last, he was pushed gently down on top of the makeshift bed Damen had arranged using Laurent's discarded clothing and the saddle blanket from their horse. It was better than lying directly in the dirt, at least, especially when he'd be spending days here. 

Damen kneeled before him and looked down the length of Laurent's body eagerly, his eyes pausing at hip level. 

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

Laurent made a frustrated sound. "Would you like to woo me with flowers and poetry while you're at it? This isn't the last stage of a courtship. Come make yourself useful."

"Being insulted and ordered around is exactly how I'd imagine a courtship with you would end, actually," Damen murmured.

Damen sought Laurent's permission before shrugging off his own armour in a matter of moments. He didn't try to remove anything more, though. For all that the chiton wouldn't be enough to really get in the way, its presence still made Laurent feel better, because it supported Damen's acknowledgement that he didn't think that this was about _his_ pleasure.

Damen made it doubly clear that he knew why he was here when he reached for Laurent, not to pull him closer to Damen, but simply to touch him. Laurent gasped at the way Damen's thumb flicked over his hardened nipple.

Damen inhaled. "You're not quite all the way there yet," he said.

"Touch me anyway," Laurent encouraged, as if Damen should really have needed it by this stage.

Perhaps Laurent's body still had a few minutes before it sank completely into that mindless want he associated with the proper onset of his heat, but he still wanted Damen's hands on him instead of just his eyes. It felt more like a freely-made decision for Laurent to take Damen's hand in his and guide it downwards now, before his instincts really forced him into it.

Damen had strong hands, but by contrast his touch on Laurent's erection was light, teasing, aware that Laurent didn't need more than that yet, though he would soon enough. Laurent's hips shifted restlessly under his touch, the clothing under him already tangling slightly with his movements and not giving him anything substantial to hold onto as Damen's grip tightened just a little.

Laurent's breath stuttered as Damen set a steady rhythm that Laurent found himself responding to eagerly. Rather than watching how Damen's fingers worked at him and ended each upward stroke with a minute twist, which would have been enough additional stimulation to set Laurent off embarrassingly quickly, Laurent leaned back into the silk of his jacket and closed his eyes, reaching for his control while he still could.

"You don't have to hold back, you know," Damen said in a low voice.

But Laurent couldn't quite let himself go. Not yet.

The shift into full on heat didn't happen from one instant to the next, but it was a quick and obvious change nonetheless. Laurent found his hips rising into Damen's grip more determinedly, seeking out more, harder, faster. Damen made a strange rumbling noise that didn't quite bring Laurent to stillness, but that he still felt as a reassurance that his needs would be met, even though Damen's hand had just fallen away from him.

There was a moment of nothing, when Laurent almost didn't believe Damen's reassurance, despite Laurent's rational mind knowing there was no way Damen intended to leave him here like this now. Then instead of the return of Damen's hand, there was the unexpected but unmistakable wet slide of a tongue up Laurent's cock, immediately followed by nearly Laurent's entire length being dipped into Damen's hot, wet, sucking mouth. 

Laurent's eyes sprang back open and he made a ridiculous noise before he could stop himself.

Laurent had never expected to be on the receiving end of this act. He reached the edge of his control too quickly, only saving himself by grabbing Damen by the hair to stop his movements.

"I said… hands," Laurent gasped. Damen moved to pull away, and Laurent found himself dragging at Damen's head in an attempt to keep him there. "I didn't say stop!" Laurent added. "Just… slower. Start with just your tongue."

Damen gave him a considering look, and then when he apparently determined that Laurent was still mentally aware enough to make such a decision, his eyes crinkled slightly, as if he were laughing. When Laurent allowed him to slide back until his mouth was free again, he teased, "Was that too much for you to handle?"

"Don't be smug," Laurent chastised. "The fact that you were going too fast is nothing to crow about. I'm still waiting for you to prove those skills you were talking about earlier."

In fact, Laurent wasn't certain that Damen would have much experience in this particular act. Damen, who had always apparently preferred women, was likely usually on the receiving end. Even on the rare occasions that he lay with a man at all, Damen had probably preferred them to bend over for him, like he was conquering rather than servicing them. 

But obviously Damen at the very least knew what he himself liked. Once Damen bent back down, Laurent was treated by another lick up the length of his cock, but this time Damen didn't move on. There was another, tracing the thickest vein up the underside and taking a moment to swirl around the tip, and then another long savouring swipe, this time terminating in a tiny thrust of the tongue into the slit that had Laurent writhing harder than ever. The slight penetration was like a parody of what they couldn't have, but what they both so desperately wanted. Just the mental image of that, combined with the sensation of what Damen was actually doing, very nearly set Laurent off, but Damen wisely chose that moment to withdraw again.

The sudden cool air on Laurent's wet skin prompted a noise of complaint, which only earned him a fond chuckle. Laurent was going to make Damen sorry for laughing at him… eventually. Just as soon as Laurent was done with him.

When he returned, Damen worked his whole mouth over Laurent, this time sinking down the length of him far more slowly. Laurent's hands found Damen's curls again, but only to hold on; certainly not to pull him away. When Damen reached the end of the downward slide, he gagged slightly on the tip. Laurent didn't mind that sensation at all, though. Damen let himself be held in place for a long moment, despite how uncomfortable it must have been. When Laurent let him up, Damen's eyes were watering slightly and he was gasping for air, but he didn't complain.

"More?" Damen asked. 

"Yes," Laurent whispered, and steeled himself, readying what little he could currently access of his usual wells of control.

Damen set a slow but steadily increasing rhythm. One hand rested on Laurent's thigh, so he could undoubtedly feel every time Laurent enjoyed something enough to make the muscles there shake and tense. His other hand found the base of Laurent's cock. Part of Laurent wished he'd take him all the way in again, but another liked the strength of that hand on him, his grip working in combination with his mouth. 

Damen reached a tempo it was clear he wasn't going to back down from unless Laurent outright said 'no'. Laurent wasn't sure that he could have made that word form right then even if he'd wanted to. All he really wanted to say was 'yes', but even that turned into a wordless moan that basically meant the same thing. 

Laurent tried to push his reaction down, but the instincts of heat would no longer let him. He couldn't stop himself, and when he tensed it wasn't with repression, but relinquishment. His abdomen was taut with oncoming release. But it didn't quite arrive. Laurent felt strung out, even as Damen let go of Laurent's thigh and gave him the freedom of motion to thrust up into his mouth, straining for what he wanted. 

Laurent didn't realise until a moment later why Damen had moved his hand. Two fingers found Laurent's entrance and circled it questioningly. Laurent couldn't say anything, couldn't even nod, but something about his silence clearly must have transmitted approval, because both fingers thrust in, hard and fast.

That had been what Laurent's body had been waiting on. The tension broke in a rush, his vision going half dark and his cries echoing around the shallow cave and undoubtedly being reflected into the wilderness outside. If there was anyone out there, the sounds might draw them closer to investigate. Close enough that, if they were Alpha, they might smell Laurent's heat. But Laurent couldn't stop himself from making the noises regardless of the danger. It was too good.

Damen sucked down the salt of him with a pleased moan, his attentions turning slow and gentle, letting Laurent ride out the waves of it, even as Laurent clenched around Damen's still-buried fingers.

When Laurent finally had the strength to move, he curled sinuously onto his side. Damen withdrew his hands so that he could push himself up beside Laurent, uncomplainingly lying in the dirt where Laurent was at least still surrounded by cloth. Laurent turned his nose into Damen's skin. 

It wasn't perfect. Laurent's body knew that there was supposed to be a knot buried in him right now, and it was letting him know in no uncertain terms that the fact that there wasn't meant that he'd done it wrong, yet again. But the scent of his aroused Alpha right before him and the warmth of Damen's arms around him were so much better than having nothing to turn to but the cold touch of silk that smelled of Laurent alone.

Laurent didn't thank Damen, but he didn't shove him away either, which from him was just as good. Damen ought to know that by now.

When Damen shifted, Laurent felt the hard press of Damen's cock against his thigh. Just the feel of it made his body long for more, even just minutes after the first round had finished. Laurent pressed himself against Damen instinctually for just long enough to realise what he was doing, and then backed away slightly.

"Sorry," Damen said, as if it were his fault that Laurent was finding it difficult to contain himself. There was a slight rasp to his voice that reminded Laurent exactly what Damen had been doing with his mouth just minutes ago. Laurent felt his own cock twitch back to life. 

"So you should be," Laurent said. "You should be touching me with your hands right now, not that."

"Again?" Damen asked. "Already?"

"I'm in heat," Laurent said. "What, did you think it was going to be a once a day thing?"

"Not exactly," Damen said. "But when do you rest?"

Laurent laughed bitterly. "Whatever gave you the impression that I got to _rest_ at any stage throughout this? I thought you'd been with Omegas in heat before."

"Not the whole heat," Damen said quietly.

Of course not, Laurent realised. The Omegas in question would have been there mainly for their Prince's pleasure, not their own.

"If you leave me before this is over –"

"Never," Damen said. "Just… you were right; going slow is better."

"Worried you're not going to be able to keep up?" Laurent challenged.

"Definitely not," Damen said, when really he clearly meant 'yes'. 

Damen brought him to his peak three more times using just his fingers. When Laurent's body was ready again, he caught Damen flexing his fingers and took a very small amount of pity on him.

"You told me, once, what you'd really like to do with your mouth, if only I'd let you," Laurent said, and despite his usual ability to draw on the most foul-mouthed descriptions he'd managed to pick up throughout his life without batting an eyelid, right then Laurent couldn't quite bring himself to provide directions that were any more explicit than that. 

He didn't have to. Damen clearly remembered what he'd said well enough.

"Yes," Damen breathed, and it was clear that his enthusiasm had little to do with giving his hands a break. "Can I?"

Laurent hesitated, rethinking it for a moment, for he didn't really know what he was letting himself in for. This act wasn't part of his repertoire; not giving, thankfully, and certainly not receiving either. But eventually he nodded.

As Damen trailed his tongue up Laurent's inner thigh in brief flicks, catching the thick trails of Laurent's slick and, to all appearances, appreciating the taste, Laurent couldn't think of anything other than the words 'yes, please'.

Even those words were gone when Damen pressed the firm tip of his tongue to the source of that wetness and swirled it around the rim. They were replaced by a strangled yell as Laurent's back arched almost painfully. Damen caught Laurent's body mid-air and eased him back down.

"That's it," Damen encouraged. "More of that, I'm guessing?" 

Speechless, Laurent nodded and his breath left him in a long puff as Damen ducked back down.

It was better and worse than having Damen's fingers there. Outside of heat Laurent thought he could have ridden the slick sensation of Damen's tongue jabbing inside before retreating to tease the entrance for hours, but with heat driving him endlessly towards one end, it wasn't quite enough. He needed depth.

"Fingers," was all Laurent could say, a demand. So much for giving Damen's hands a break.

Damen obligingly moved his face away a little to allow him to press one finger inside Laurent, building up to three fingers slowly, just the way he'd already learned that Laurent liked it. But then he surprised Laurent by circling around all three buried fingers with his tongue.

Laurent cried out at the combined sensations and came, and Damen's free hand ended up around Laurent's waist, holding him through it. 

"Good?" Damen asked as Laurent pressed his face into Damen's neck and gulped in the Alpha scent of him.

"Don't fish for compliments," Laurent panted. "It's not attractive."

But even if Laurent wasn't about to admit it to Damen, he could at least acknowledge in the privacy of his own mind that it had been _very_ good. There was no question that Damen was well versed in what he was doing this time, and it was more than enough to make up for Laurent's uncertainty. Laurent had never thought he'd want to be guided like this, when usually he preferred being completely in control of every detail. He hadn't thought he could enjoy being out of his depth. But it felt nice to let Damen show him how it could be, with a partner that relished Laurent's pleasure rather than his barely-concealed discomfort, and was willing to work hard to make sure Laurent couldn't just clamp down on those good feelings and go back to repressing everything, as he was used to doing.

No one could claim Damen wasn't willing to put in a decent effort when he wanted to. And he clearly wanted to, every time, for three straight days. 

Even when Laurent occasionally lost his last grasp on his constraint for long minutes at a time and reached determinedly for Damen's cock or begged for it, Damen patiently diverted his hands and silenced him with light kisses. Laurent complained at the time, but when Damen pushed him over the edge again and Laurent was once more lent the clarity of temporary satisfaction, he reached for a kiss of his own accord, a silent thank you.

At some point late on the third day, judging by the long shadows being cast by the outcropping that was sheltering them, Laurent felt the first hints that his heat was finally dying away. It didn't feel like coming back to consciousness, the way it had the last few times he'd suffered through heat; unlike then, his mental acuity had never really faded away for more than short periods at a time. He'd for the most part retained a crisp awareness of his surroundings, and particularly of Damen, throughout. Laurent had been right, it turned out, when he'd thought that his heats had been worse because he'd been denying himself. 

How much better would it be, Laurent thought idly, if he were sinking bonelessly into a proper mattress and silken sheets and letting Damen curl up behind him, a warm weight at his back, in the aftermath of having experienced the full breadth of everything he truly wanted during heat?

As it was, even without that full feeling of satisfaction, Laurent found himself sprawling into the makeshift bedding, spent. He experienced the falling sensation of overtiredness, as if his body were slipping right through the silks and into the earth beneath. Behind him, though, it was clear that Damen wasn't in quite such a soft state of exhaustion.

With his heat all but over, now that he wasn't tempting fate, Laurent briefly ground his back into the hardness that was pressing against it. 

Damen made a choked noise and Laurent could feel, through how his muscles were coiled against Laurent's back, that he was barely restraining himself from thrusting against Laurent. But he'd promised, after all. 

"You're evil," Damen said, finally making himself shift his hips away.

"You can feel free to touch yourself," Laurent offered generously. "I don't need your hands anymore."

"I can't, though," Damen groaned piteously. "My hands are cramping."

"Ha," Laurent said, finally vindicated. "I knew you had poor stamina!"

"I really don't think three straight days with barely a break counts as a weak performance," Damen protested.

"I'll be the judge of that," Laurent said. 

"And?"

Laurent sniffed disdainfully. "I suppose you were adequate."

Damen made a noise between laughter and a groan.

"Do I get any kind of consideration for such an 'adequate' performance?"

"You got to watch me make a fool of myself for three days," Laurent said, with a tired slur. "I think that's enough."

"You didn't make a fool of yourself," Damen said seriously. "But I had something a little different in mind. _Your_ hands aren't cramping. Maybe you could –"

But Laurent didn't hear the rest of it, because he'd finally, _finally_ , collapsed into exhausted sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assuming I have all my timelines straight in my brain, I believe this would be very close to the point in time and space at which Laurent and Damen cross the path they took in canon, albeit going in the opposite direction. So I kind of couldn't resist the events at the start of this chapter. Sorry? (No I'm not.)

When they emerged from the shallow cave early in the morning, Laurent knew there could be little mistake as to what they'd been up to for the past few days. Even putting aside the distinctive mingling aromas, they both looked wild, smeared in dirt and with utterly ruined clothing. 

The guise actually flattered Damen, who would probably still have looked untamed even while immaculate in his full regalia. It didn't suit Laurent, though, who was fairly certain he looked as though he'd been tied to a horse and dragged for a mile. His hair was curling slightly after being dampened by sweat. He hadn't even bothered putting on his outermost layers of clothing, for they were barely more than scraps of torn silk by this point anyway. Even on his underclothes, the cut laces were hanging loose from him like the last threads of his reserve. 

Damen clearly liked this look on Laurent quite a lot. But then, Damen could be a bit of an idiot.

"Our armies have been kept waiting for us for three days, and Nikandros's and Makedon's troops are probably already at the meeting point, but you want to stop for a bath?" Damen asked incredulously.

Laurent glared. "I'm sure you'd love to return looking like the conquering hero who finally broke through the Omega Prince of Vere's icy exterior. But it will be enough of a problem for me once it's known that we were alone together at all during my heat without any kind of chaperone in sight. I don't need to make it worse by letting it be known that you actually touched me, or suspected that you fucked me, during that time."

"No one will suspect that," Damen assured him. "At least not once all the other Alphas smell that you clearly aren't pregnant."

"Small mercies," Laurent said, as if that eventuality hadn't been his second biggest concern once he'd realised his heat had come early. Laurent tried to imagine willingly fighting a battle with a child – Damen's child – inside him, and couldn't quite picture it. And then there were the political implications of the Crown Prince of Vere bearing the child of the prince-killer, whether it was a bastard or not. 

It wasn't something Laurent could afford to have to deal with right now, to say the least.

They'd been riding in the direction of where their soldiers would be camped, searching for somewhere they could wash along the way, for less than twenty minutes. At that point, Laurent caught, out of the corner of his eye, the movement of a small party with wagons trailing behind them making their way down a nearby dirt road. They were merchants, by the look of the wagons, and not heavily armed, unless they were very good at concealing their weapons. Laurent and his small crew had used a similar disguise travelling into Delfeur, of course, but there were only two men in this party. Laurent judged that they couldn't be too much of a threat.

"Hello!" Laurent cried out as he jumped down from the horse's back, and waved his arms above his head.

"Really?" Damen asked sceptically as he watched Laurent make a commotion to gain the travellers' attention. Grudgingly, he climbed down from the horse himself. When they both saw the wagons change direction, heading their way, Damen reached for his sword, but Laurent shook his head. Damen said, "I thought the point was not to have anyone see or smell us like this."

"Do I currently look like the Prince of Vere to you?" Laurent asked.

"Always," Damen said.

Laurent countered, "Well, I won't to them, trust me. All they'll see is some unnamed Omega and Alpha pair who got trapped out in the woods during an unexpected heat. So try not to speak unless there's no way around it; your accent alone will be sure to make them suspicious."

"My Veretian accent is much more convincing than yours is when you speak Akielon," Damen said, sounding put out, but he didn't argue further.

Once the riders neared, one of them dismounted and approached the rest of the way cautiously on foot. His hand remained on the grip of a short knife at his belt, probably wary of this being an attempt at misdirection to facilitate thievery. The two swords currently hanging visibly from Laurent and Damen's horse probably didn't help to ease his mind.

"Thank goodness you stopped," Laurent proclaimed, with nothing of his usual imperiousness to his tone. "You seriously won't believe the week we've had!"

When the man, an Alpha, drew too close, a low rumbling threat came deep from Damen's throat, bringing the approaching Alpha to an abrupt halt. The man didn't look away from Damen, wary of the implicit danger of him, but it was clear that he directed himself to Laurent when he spoke.

"My name is Charls," the man said quietly, as if trying not to be overheard by Damen. "And that man you see on the horse is Guillaime, my assistant. We're at your service." He lowered his voice even further. "Should we be challenging this animal for attacking you while you were vulnerable?" 

The mental picture of this polished merchant, who was bearing a knife that was little more than a letter opener, defending Laurent's honour against Damen, with his skill with a sword and wall of muscle, would have been funny enough. Once Damen's expression at being called an animal was thrown in as well, it took everything in Laurent not to collapse into fits of laughter. 

At the same time, the more serious, calculating part of Laurent was noting that here was another Veretian Alpha who seemed thoroughly unimpressed at the idea that some Alpha brute might have targeted an Omega against his will during heat. 

"Oh no!" Laurent said, as if shocked at the thought that such a thing might ever be possible. "No, I know how this must look, but my husband and I just unexpectedly got caught in a bit of a bad spot, that's all."

"Your Akielon husband?" Charls asked sceptically, taking in Damen's appearance and clothing. This far from Vere's border with Akielos, such pairings were exceptionally rare.

Laurent put on an embarrassed expression and said conspiratorially, "Oh, but he's not actually Akielon. He just has the colouring, courtesy of his grandmother's line I'm told, and then he's got that lovely warrior's build to match. So sometimes, you know, when we want to spice things up a little, I like to pretend…"

Coupled with the way they both looked like they'd been rolling around in the dirt together, it was very clear what Laurent supposedly 'liked to pretend'.

"Oh!" Charls exclaimed, and his whole face and body shifted, the tenseness fading away and his expression morphing into a knowing smile. "Yes, I see. The village beauty and the barbarian invader, was it? I suppose as long as everyone had a good time." Charls winked.

Laurent's blush, which was real, at least supported the act he was putting on.

"Still, authenticity is one thing. Spending such a delicate time outside in nature with no real defences is quite another. You could get yourself in real trouble," Charls cautioned.

Laurent rolled his eyes, exasperatedly. "Oh, I know. And I kept telling him my time was getting close! But he insists he's Alpha enough to protect me no matter what, and I just can't bear to fracture that fragile ego of his." Laurent saw Damen shift in place, likely barely restraining himself from responding to that last part. "It has left us in a bit of a state, though, as you see. And I can't help but notice that you appear to have quite a lot of bundles in your wagons. I don't suppose that somewhere among all that is any clothing that might fit us? We can't go back to town looking like this, I'm sure you understand. What would we tell the children?"

"But you are in luck, my friend!" Charls exclaimed gleefully. "What are the chances? I happen to be a cloth merchant. Most of what I have with me is as yet uncut, of course, but I do have some ready-made items. I'm sure we can find something that will suit, even for your… very robust husband."

"I'd be so grateful," Laurent said in a rush. Then he added in a low voice, "Though honestly, I don't mind so much if his clothing is a little tight."

Charls laughed. "Say no more. I'm sure we must have _something_ to show off his physique for you." He sent Guillaime to scavenge for something. When he produced the clothing, Laurent directed him to hand the bundle to Damen and thanked them both profusely.

In repayment, Laurent handed Charls the knife Damen had returned to him days ago. The silver of the grip alone was worth more than enough to cover the clothing, but the edges of the hilt were also set with precious stones, making it an absolute steal from Charls's point of view. Charls, wide-eyed, tried to decline, to say that perhaps the clothing could be a gift, just this once, but Laurent insisted. 

"No, really, take it. As it turns out, I'm fairly certain I won't be needing this again," Laurent said. He wasn't looking directly at Damen, but Laurent was sure that if he did, Damen would either be looking shocked or pleased, or some combination of the two. "May it serve you as well as it has me."

Though Laurent couldn't quite imagine Charls sticking an attempting rapist between the ribs with it, and certainly not inexplicably winning over a foreign prince by trying to assassinate him with it either.

Before they departed, Charls mentioned, "You know, my family also makes Akielon clothes. Akielos is in fact our eventual destination, when the current unrest in that country dies down. So if you ever need a replacement outfit for your husband, for when you… _pretend_ …"

"I promise in that case you'll be the first person I contact," Laurent assured him, trying his best to suppress his laughter.

Charls and Guillaime departed shortly after, with a flourish and a wave from Charls. 

Damen finally spoke up. "What would we tell the children?"

"Don't get any ideas," Laurent warned.

"Oh, it's far too late for that, _husband_ ," Damen informed him.

They set off once more in search of somewhere to wash the dirt and the smell of each other off their bodies before utilising the fresh clothing. Finally, they found a trickle of a stream that Laurent decided would have to serve. Damen was right, yet again; their men had already waited long enough. At least it was enough for the horse to water itself properly as well.

Laurent thought briefly about sending Damen away, or at the very least making him turn his back, while Laurent stripped back down and rinsed himself off. However, it seemed ridiculous to insist on such things after he'd spent the last three days with his clothes splayed underneath his back, incapable of concealing him from Damen's eyes. 

Besides, Laurent quite enjoyed the ability to watch Damen standing in the stream with rivulets of water running down the contours of his muscles. Damen held Laurent's gaze throughout, except when he was glancing down appreciatively at the rest of Laurent's body.

When he was clean and at least half-dry, Damen went to put his chiton back on. 

"I got you Veretian clothes," Laurent reminded him.

"I'd much prefer my own," Damen said.

"Good for you. But your chiton's not even close to being white anymore, for one thing," Laurent said. "For another, I'm sure it smells heavily of my heat, so what was the point of bathing if you're just going to put that on? And then there's the fact that it'll draw unnecessary attention if we run into anyone else before we get back to our camp. There was a reason I wore Akielon clothing when we went in search of Makedon over the border, and it wasn't to give you a nice view."

"Alright, alright," Damen sighed, clearly acknowledging Laurent's logic, as he should. He struggled into his new outfit but chose to forgo lacing it up, since it was already tight enough as is. 

"You look like you're about to burst through the seams any moment," Laurent said as he tied his own laces. And then, very deliberately, he added, "Animal."

"I'm glad you find it amusing. You know, if one day those merchants figure out who the strange Omega they ran into on the road really was, they're going to have a very interesting perspective on their future King's tastes," Damen warned. 

"It would hardly be the worst gossip that's been spread about my bedroom habits. I'm not even sure some of the more lurid speculation is even physically possible, to be honest. Though, unfortunately, the gossip that's developed in our absence is probably at least partly accurate. Either way, I can only hope it won't affect my people's willingness to see me take the throne and to serve under me. We can't afford that, especially at this point."

When Laurent was done tying the majority of his clothing into place, he held out his right arm with the ties still trailing from it, for he couldn't do this part himself. "Lace me up?" he asked innocently, even knowing that Damen's hands were probably still hurting somewhat. 

Damen rolled his eyes, but complied nonetheless. "I'd really rather unlace you," he said as his broad fingers worked to tighten the delicate strings.

"Perhaps some other time," Laurent replied, and Damen blinked, as if he couldn't believe that Laurent had really said that. The expression that formed on his face could only be described as one of hope. Laurent, for once, felt a similar sensation swelling in his chest.

Laurent had never thought to have something like this. Even when it had started becoming clear exactly what was on offer, he hadn't thought he could give in. But now it was becoming clear that giving in, at least to Damen, wasn't at all the same thing as giving himself up.

As they finally climbed onto the horse together for the last time, Laurent willingly wrapped his arm around Damen's waist to hold on as the horse was spurred into motion.

Even without the interruptions, the ride to track down their troops would still have taken much longer than the one to get away from them; this time they didn't ride the horse nearly to the breaking point, and it turned out that the battle had diverted the group off the anticipated path slightly, so Laurent and Damen had to double back somewhat before they stumbled upon the place where the soldiers had camped out.

The cry went up when they were still some hundred feet away. Even though they'd in effect abandoned their soldiers in the middle of a fight to the death, Laurent and Damen were accepted back into the camp with open arms. Though thankfully that was only figuratively speaking for Laurent, who would surely have shoved away any Alpha other than Damen who tried to lay hands on him so soon after the conclusion of his heat, and that was if Damen didn't try to kill them first.

Laurent got the impression that instead of being appalled that Laurent had left them behind, or that he'd returned from seeing to his heat with Damen still by his side, his men seemed to mostly just be glad to see that their Prince had remained unscathed despite the horrific timing and the unfavourable location. He was warmed by the thought that they had been concerned for him. 

It did probably help that when the Alpha soldiers were close they could all smell that Laurent wasn't pregnant, and that he also wasn't putting off any scent of anxiety that might suggest something untoward had happened. It probably also helped that something about Laurent in the days immediately post-heat had always seemed to make Alphas more kindly disposed towards him.

Laurent spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night receiving reports of the battle. Just shy of two thousand of their group had survived, compared with the four hundred and sixteen men they'd captured from the other side. Even though the battle had cost at least a third of their force and much more than that from their opponents', Laurent was impressed that they'd managed to keep even that many alive on both sides, under the circumstances. Such an outcome certainly hadn't seemed assured at the time when he and Damen had been forced to leave.

Though now it was going to be difficult to deal with such a large number of prisoners when they needed to move towards their meeting point as quickly as possible. The delays of the battle and then Laurent's heat had already put them far behind in their journey. 

Unfortunately, they couldn't just take the prisoners with them. Many of them were injured, and Laurent couldn't afford to assign Paschal to look after them when he was already run off his feet with Laurent's and Damen's injured men. And even those who weren't injured were currently more of a potential danger than an asset to Laurent. While many of the men who'd been set against Laurent had probably been simply drafted from the local towns and given little choice about it, some of their number were undoubtedly the Regent's truly loyal men, sent from Arles to gather and lead the rest into battle. With the exception of a few sneering faces that he thought he might recognise from the palace, Laurent couldn't be certain which of the surviving men were which. At this point, so close to facing off against his Uncle, Laurent couldn't risk inviting men into his number that would pledge themselves to him only because they were looking for a way to sabotage his troop from the inside.

In the end, Laurent's best bet was to find a place to lock the captured men away until they could be sorted out later, hopefully soon, after his uncle was dealt with. They were in an unfriendly region, but almost a day's ride eastward back towards the Vaskian border, Laurent knew there was a small keep called Nesson that would be largely undefended, and so would be easy enough to take as his own. The cells there wouldn't really be built to accommodate this many men, but they'd find a way to manage. Laurent would have to send a contingent of men to both take and hold the keep, as well as guard the prisoners for the immediate future. 

Nesson was, however, ideally close to Vask. The number of men he'd have to relegate to that task would be relatively minimal, for he could send an envoy to request that the Vaskians intercede if there were attempts at either incursion and escape. Of course, such an effort on the Vaskians' part was probably going to cost Laurent dearly down the track, when he was King and they wanted some favour from him in return. 

Damen might have been willing to sacrifice three thousand men for Laurent, and if truly pressed Laurent might have admitted, at least to himself, that he would likely have done the same if their positions were reversed. But Laurent wasn't willing to sacrifice four hundred men for no real reason other than convenience. Even if many of those men currently sneered at Laurent, their ears filled with lies about him, one day that might change. For that, Laurent would readily trade a favour down the line and some of the numbers that he could otherwise have used in the upcoming clash against his uncle.

In the early hours of the morning, when the reports finally ended, Laurent could almost sense the nearness of dawn and decided to give up on sleep for the night entirely. Unlike Damen, who'd insisted on staying 'alert' to watch over him, Laurent had at least managed to get an entire night's sleep after his heat had abated. So instead of sinking into bed, he had a servant rouse Paschal.

"You want to delay your heat?" Paschal asked when Laurent detailed the issue to him. "If you recall, quite some time ago, you asked me how you might be able to bring your heat on sooner instead."

"I believe you have a fairly good idea why I asked that then," Laurent said. "Just as I now know why you lied to me then and told me it wasn't possible. If I'd started my heats that young, I'd probably have already been forced to pop out a few heirs and then been disposed of by now."

"So it would seem that you were best served by not messing around with your biology back then," Paschal said pointedly. 

"My biology is already being messed with," Laurent said. "That's the problem. It would be a different matter if I could be sure that I had the normal three months before I had to worry about it again. But this is a perilous situation. If it should come even earlier again this time…"

"I assume from your question that you've not already done anything that would put your heat off for a longer period. Say, for a year," Paschal said pointedly.

Paschal, a Beta, wouldn't have any way of telling for sure this early.

"No," Laurent said. "I'm not pregnant."

"Are you certain?" Paschal asked, concerned.

"I'm hardly about to forget the activities that would lead to _that_."

"Then, apart from pregnancy, I know of no way to absolutely ensure your heat doesn't arrive early, or at all," Paschal advised. "There are herbs that have proven to have some degree of success at delaying or preventing heat, but that's because they're poisons. They've been known to kill Omegas outright almost as often as they work as intended. Even without that risk, they're potent enough that they could easily remove your ability to ever bear an heir to the throne, or even damage your body enough to halve your lifespan. And all of that's assuming that we could even find the herbs in this region."

Part of Laurent's mind – a deep-seeded fear, encouraged over the years by Uncle's insistence that Laurent would always remain only inches from total ruin once he fully presented – immediately wanted to say that they should send riders out to search for those herbs, despite Paschal's warnings and clear abhorrence of the idea. But was it worth taking those kinds of risks?

His heat had happened in battle this time. If that were the case again, the battle in question would probably be much larger, and it was almost certain that Laurent wouldn't be able to get away so easily, let alone spend three days absent from his army.

Once that might not have been the only thing pushing Laurent to take such measures. One of the risks Paschal had mentioned would have seemed like more of an incentive then, really. But now Laurent thought of this heat just passed, when even in the worst moments he'd known that Damen would take care of him. He recalled lying in Damen's arms afterwards, wondering what the future might bring.

No. It wasn't worth it.

It hadn't occurred to Laurent to watch for the symptoms so early before. Now he'd know to remain constantly vigilant, and would at least have the usual day or so of warning if his heat did come early again.

Laurent didn't know what he'd do if that weren't enough. He wasn't used to not having a plan for every foreseeable circumstance. 

Not long after Paschal had departed, Damen showed up at Laurent's tent in the still-early hours of the morning, as had long since been his habit. It felt different now, somehow, and not just because Damen looked more tired than usual, still slightly suffering from days' worth of lack of sleep, much as Laurent himself was. 

There was a moment when something silent passed between them.

Then Damen turned more formal. "The men escorting your prisoners are right now readying themselves to go east on your orders. I would suggest that we start getting the remainder ready to move towards the meeting point. We're still at least four days away from there. Are you able to ride?"

The lingering effects of getting through three desperate days of heat were actually less extreme this time than they'd been during Laurent's jarring ride back to Breteau from Acquitart. Damen, it seemed, had cared for Laurent more gently than Laurent had looked after himself.

"I'll be fine," Laurent said dismissively. "We're not putting our waiting armies at risk from remaining in one place for too long over a tiny bit of discomfort."

Two hours later, they were riding with the eventual destination of the town of Loux, near the border between Barbin and Belloy. The men were in remarkably good spirits considering their recent losses, probably because they, like Laurent, could see the end in sight. Once they got there, Loux was only two days' ride from the fortress at Chastillon, and a further day from Arles. Whether Uncle chose to confront them in one of those places, or send his soldiers to meet them at some halfway point, this campaign would reach its conclusion soon enough. 

The first night back on the road, Damen set up his tent beside Laurent's as usual. It made things simpler, if perhaps a little too tempting, for the proximity meant they could more easily avoid anyone seeing Laurent slipping from his tent flap across to Damen's.

Damen had clearly already been almost dropping off to sleep, exhaustion leading him to seek out his bed early, when Laurent arrived. He blinked at Laurent as if he wasn't certain of what he was seeing, perhaps thinking that he'd fallen into dreams already.

Laurent slid down alongside Damen. Damen reached out for his face, his fingers brushing Laurent's cheek as if assuring himself of the reality of Laurent in front of him, in his tent, in the middle of the night.

Laurent leaned down, and Damen, apparently not caring anymore if it was real, met him halfway in a kiss. It was sweet and sleepy, the way Laurent imagined a kiss between eager lovers might be the morning after they'd spent hours in bed enjoying each other.

"Is this meant as positive reinforcement for good behaviour during your heat?" Damen finally asked when Laurent pulled back to study Damen's face.

"No," Laurent said. "This is you giving me what I want, and nothing more."

"Good," Damen said. "That's what I want too."

Yes, Damen always had claimed that, hadn't he?

"Are your hands still cramping?" Laurent asked.

"No," Damen said.

"Then I want you to show me how you'd have touched yourself, if you could have then."

Damen, for once, didn't ask Laurent whether he was sure, probably because Laurent's tone couldn't have been described as anything less than certain.

Laurent watched as Damen pushed the skirt of the chiton up and out of the way, revealing how Damen already appeared to be showing some signs of interest. A kiss, even a lazy one, had apparently been enough to bring him halfway to hardness.

Damen held out his right hand to Laurent, and Laurent didn't know what to do with it for a long moment. He wasn't used to being present while someone else touched themselves, or to touching himself outside of heat either. He had limited knowledge of how such things should go.

Finally, Damen said, "If you want me to put on a show, you're going to have to help out just a little. I don't currently have any oils in the tent."

Oh. Laurent gave Damen's hand a considering look. He could refuse and tell Damen to take care of it himself, but part of Laurent didn't want to say any such thing. Instead, he bowed his head slightly and swiped his tongue up Damen's palm, and then again, tasting the salt of Damen's skin while leaving a thick trail of wetness in his wake. He met Damen's eyes and sucked two of Damen's fingers into his mouth, laving them until they were sufficiently lubricated. He then pushed Damen's hand back downwards, a wordless order.

After that, it seemed that Damen didn't even have to do anything to bring himself the rest of the way to hardness. 

When he circled his now-slicked hand around himself, he did so immediately, rather than as the end of a slow progressive build up, the way Laurent himself preferred. This was, Laurent thought, the sure manner of a man who wasn't used to denying himself pleasure for any amount of time.

Given that, it still astounded Laurent that Damen hadn't given him up as wasted effort months ago. But then, Laurent had finally admitted that this obviously wasn't just about the desire to bed him. Damen had made that more than clear enough by now.

Laurent controlled his own body's reaction to watching Damen move closer and closer to coming undone far better now than he could have during heat, or even in its immediate aftermath when he'd been exhausted and his control had long since shattered. With Laurent's multiple layers of clothing, Damen might have been forgiven for thinking that Laurent was currently unmoved by the sight in front of him. But Laurent's breath came just slightly shorter as Damen made little groaning noises. And if Damen could have heard the speed of Laurent's heartbeat, there would have been no illusions whatsoever that Laurent was unaffected.

Damen's eyes didn't leave Laurent until the end, when they fell shut as his hips thrust upwards slightly. Laurent watched Damen pulse his satisfaction over his fingers and had to restrain himself for reaching out to be some more direct part of that moment. But that wasn't what this was about.

When Damen had cleaned the mess, he then reached to take care of Laurent. Laurent caught his hand instead, twining their fingers. "No," he said. "I have to get back to my own tent. I'd rather not risk being caught in here when we've already pushed my soldiers' willingness to believe you're not fucking me beyond its logical limit."

Damen, wisely, didn't ask why Laurent had been willing to take that risk for even this long. Laurent wasn't sure he could have answered if pressed.

"Just evening the playing field, were you?" Damen asked, though it wasn't quite a complaint.

Yes, that had been part of it. Damen had watched Laurent lose all control again and again while staying remarkably disciplined himself, so much so that they'd never come close to needing to use the knife Damen had given him. Laurent had wanted that same opportunity, at least as much as he could when Damen would never have to deal with a heat of his own. But Laurent couldn't deny that he'd also just wanted to find out what Damen liked. 

Admitting as much to Damen, though, would have been taken as an admission that Laurent might hope to eventually use that newly attained knowledge. Damen probably already suspected as much, at this point, but part of Laurent was determined that this shouldn't just be seen as an inevitability by either of them. If and when he let Damen touch him again, it would be a choice, freely made.

Laurent didn't venture into Damen's tent the following night, nor the one after. And Damen, thankfully, didn't try to push him by coming to Laurent's tent instead. 

They finally rode up on the nearly ten thousand strong army camped just outside Loux at the end of the fourth day of travel.

Nikandros took one look between Laurent and Damen and sighed like he knew exactly what had happened between them in his absence. He still greeted Damen with relief that his King had arrived intact, despite the unanticipated delay, but it was with the air of someone who intended to have a long private talk with him before the day was over. Laurent didn't envy Damen that. He hoped Nikandros wouldn't also find it necessary to try to warn Laurent off directly again. That would just be needlessly embarrassing at this point, when they both were aware that it was probably too late for that anyway.

Strangely, Makedon was the first to greet Laurent directly, and in doing so he acknowledged Laurent even before he did Damen. He clapped Laurent on the back fondly like a long-absent son and began regaling him of the tale of their trip down the western borderline of Vere, which Makedon noted seemed to have plentiful hunting available for when the battles were done. Laurent had no real choice at that point other than invite Makedon back to hunt with him, to Damen's apparent amusement.

"I told you that he liked you," Damen said after Makedon bowed deeply to his King and took his leave.

"I'm still not sure whether that's actually a good thing," said Laurent.

According to Makedon, his group had apparently only run into as much trouble as would be expected of an almost entirely Akielon army riding through the lands of Vere as if they owned the place. Few of the local forces had been foolish enough to actually try to engage them, though, given their comparative numbers. Those who had had been quickly driven back.

Enguerran, Laurent was told shortly after, had by contrast resolved most of the local resistance he'd run into by, in accordance with Laurent's orders, trying to negotiate and convince the local Lords and soldiers to join Laurent's cause instead of opposing him. He had, Laurent couldn't help but notice thoughtfully, apparently been quite successful at that, beyond what Laurent himself had even been hoping for. The additional men Enguerran had gathered along the way were almost enough to rival the number Laurent and Damen had lost in Toutaine.

It seemed that theirs had been the only group that Uncle had thought to attack. That worried Laurent, because even if Uncle apparently hadn't been certain enough to send the entirety of his forces after them, he'd still predicted that Laurent would decide to take that path personally, and that he would bring Damen with him.

Uncle knew him too well. 

That really only left Laurent one option: to not act like himself.

The most important news that was relayed to Laurent at the meeting point, besides how the two other troops had fared, was that the Regent of Vere had started making moves to relocate to Chastillon over the past few days. He must have received news by now that the men he'd sent against Laurent had been defeated. That larger battle Laurent had been planning for was looming.

An encounter at Chastillon would make this more difficult for Laurent than if they fought on the open fields, or at Arles. But knowing that his best bet was to act out of character, Laurent had an idea of how he might be able to use this turn of events to his advantage in a way that Uncle surely wouldn't predict. 

The biggest problem would be that Damen would certainly revolt when Laurent voiced his plan. 

Laurent was going to have to leave Damen in the dark if this was going to work.


	31. Chapter 31

When Laurent heard someone entering his tent without waiting for permission, Laurent fully expected to see Damen when he looked up. Instead, it was Vannes, who made the motion of ducking through the tent flap look almost elegant, as if she were instead ascending the stairs to a royal dais. She was accompanied a moment later by her silent but imposing pet, who moved very differently, with the kind of purposeful efficiency that Laurent would hesitate to label grace. 

It struck Laurent then that the contrast the two women presented probably wasn't dissimilar to how Laurent and Damen must have appeared together.

"Lady Vannes. I see you got my invitation," Laurent greeted her.

"I did, Your Highness," Vannes acknowledged with a quick bow. "Though you sadly failed to mention in your message that I should expect, when I arrived to meet with you and your army as requested, to have to spend five days amidst thousands of barbarians, waiting for you to show up."

"And here I thought you liked warriors," Laurent said.

Vannes smirked. "I won't claim they don't provide a nice enough view, of course. But if that was your thinking, you should perhaps have sent me thousands of Vaskian women instead. I know much more of their language than that of Akielos, and at least then I wouldn't be restricted to just appreciating their strength from afar. The five days' delay would have been better spent in that case."

Laurent glanced pointedly at Vannes's pet. "I'm sure you've still managed to occupy yourself well enough in my absence."

"So have you, from what I hear," Vannes said. "It would seem that you like warriors as well. No wonder no one in Arles ever caught your eye."

So, they _were_ still speculating about it, Laurent thought to himself, even those men who hadn't seen Damen and Laurent together in more recent weeks, and who hadn't been aware that Laurent had ridden away alone with Damen while his heat was coming on and returned together with him once it was over. The rumours would be worse now that knowledge was undoubtedly now circulating among the remainder of his soldiers, and no doubt among Damen's men too. 

And yet there had been no palpable air of disrespect towards Laurent since he'd arrived, as Laurent might once have expected. Damen had apparently won over the Veretian soldiers enough recently that they at least didn't immediately outright revolt at the idea of him bedding their Prince. And perhaps Laurent had also managed to win them over, enough that they didn't take him supposedly ceding to an Alpha as a sign of unforgiveable weakness in their leader.

For the rest of Vere, though, it would be a different matter. They hadn't fought under and alongside Laurent and Damen. They hadn't seen how Damen had helped deliver Laurent victories and taken next to nothing for himself, or how he'd protected Laurent to his own detriment. They wouldn't understand how Laurent could feel anything but hate towards his brother's killer. Laurent barely understood it himself some days. He imagined Vannes wouldn't be truly able to grasp it.

"You know, I didn't pay much attention to all of the talk at first," Vannes continued. "I remember how far from the truth the gossip about you often was in Arles, after all. But then I saw how you rode in, side by side with the enemy but with no sign of conflict between you. And I saw _him_ , of course. No wonder you arrived here late. That one looks like he could fight all day long in the ring, and then still have the energy to ride you all night long afterwards."

"Eloquent," Laurent commented dryly. And probably accurate, he thought to himself.

Vannes added wryly, "Politically, though, you could hardly have done worse for yourself. You could have chosen _anyone_ other than the prince-killer. Absolutely anyone."

Laurent sighed. "No. I don't think I could have."

"Oh boy," Vannes said. "It's like that, is it? You know, I'm certain I recall us having a conversation before you departed from Arles about you not choosing an Alpha over your throne."

"I'm not," Laurent said. "You know me better than that. I'm doing what I must to ensure I both make it to my majority and defeat the Regent, so that I can _take_ my throne."

"Of course," Vannes said, not sounding like she believed a word of it. "But don't you think you're taking the whole 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' principle a little far? Just because you've temporarily allied with him doesn't mean you have to allow him to bed you."

"Did you come all the way here just to comment on who might be fucking me and how?" Laurent asked. "If so, it sounds like you're already aware that that position within my camp has already been more than filled by my soldiers."

"No. As it turns out, I actually came here to bring you a gift," Vannes said.

Laurent had only peripherally noticed Vannes's pet ducking out for a moment, in breach of propriety, since she'd been ostensibly acting as chaperone. When she returned, Vannes's pet dwarfed the 'gift' in question as she escorted him into the tent.

Laurent almost didn't immediately recognise him, looking wide-eyed and disorderly and out of his element, like a kitten that had just clawed its way out of a tub of water after being unceremoniously dumped in. 

"You know, I'm not sure this is a gift I actually care to receive," Laurent commented to Vannes as he surveyed Nicaise. "You might see the decorative ribbons of a wrapped present, but to me they look a great deal like my uncle's strings, still attached."

Vannes shrugged. "So cut them free. He wouldn't be the first person you've lured away from your Uncle's graces. And I know you've long had something of a soft spot for this boy in particular. Besides, he practically begged to come. He showed up in the middle of the night and asked to be stowed among my things, like common chattel. I didn't think his pride could have stood for it unless there was a decent reason." 

No, probably not. And Laurent was fairly certain he already knew what that reason must have been. 

Still, Laurent asked thoughtfully, "Why come to you at all, though, unless he was sent? He couldn't have known your plans."

Nicaise himself finally spoke up, his voice still unbroken despite the passage of time. "The Regent declares he's riding for Chastillon, where an army just happens to be amassing, and on that same day Lady Vannes decides she suddenly needs to take a trip out of the capital? I'm not a fool."

Vannes didn't look concerned that she'd been so easily figured out. "Either he deduced where I was heading, or your uncle did and sent him. Does it really matter which? Either way, I don't imagine you're gullible enough to fall for his game."

"True," Laurent said. "If he's here on my uncle's behalf, it will be obvious soon enough. There could be almost as much benefit to that as if he actually has broken free of his master's influence." The words were as much a warning to Nicaise as anything. 

"I do think he was being truthful when he said he needed to escape the palace, though, if it helps at all," Vannes continued. "I know he has the ability to put on a façade, but I'm fairly certain the terror I saw when he came to me in Arles was real enough." 

"I hope for his sake that's true. Would you and your pet please leave Nicaise and I to speak alone, Lady Vannes."

Vannes nodded slightly, barely a bow, and departed. 

It was odd to see Nicaise standing before Laurent here of all places. It was stranger still that Nicaise currently looked almost plain against even the relatively contained affluence of Laurent's tent, though his face still lent him some distinction. There was no sign of his usual silks and jewels, though Laurent didn't doubt those gifts were stashed somewhere where they wouldn't call for once unwanted attention to him. If Nicaise really were on the run, he wouldn't have just given up such expensive items altogether, especially when he probably suspected that they might be all the wealth he'd have to live on from here on out. And it wasn't as though he hadn't earned those trinkets a hundred times over, with what he'd been through. Laurent understood that better than most.

"If nothing else, I'm impressed by your nerve in coming here," Laurent admitted. "We didn't precisely part on good terms."

"No worse than usual," Nicaise claimed.

Laurent smiled slightly. "That's true enough. I have always so enjoyed the particular nature of our chats. Despite myself, I think they were one of the few things about my life in Arles over the past several years that I've actually missed since I left the palace. Believe it or not, I'm not at all sorry to see you again now, though I hardly expected that would ever happen under these circumstances."

"You did say that you would return to Arles, though," Nicaise recalled.

"And you didn't believe me then," Laurent replied. "Have I sufficiently changed your mind?"

Nicaise cast a glance back over his shoulder, towards the thronging masses of soldiers outside who were all, at least to some extent, at Laurent's command.

"Well obviously I didn't think you'd manage to collect half the soldiers in two separate countries to fight for you," admitted Nicaise haughtily.

"Because I'm an Omega," Laurent said. "You didn't believe the men would follow me except long enough to get me alone so that they could have their way with me. I know how Uncle talks of Omegas and their fates. I absorbed those views from him without much questioning it for years. I think you also might have learned his lessons a little too well."

"Everyone thinks that way, not just the Regent," Nicaise countered.

Laurent said contemplatively, "It does seem to be the popular opinion among the courtiers in the palace, though whether that's a matter of the self-aggrandisement of Alphas, or general politics, or my uncle's particular influence, I can't yet be certain. But my more recent experience has been that not everyone in the rest of Vere thinks like that. And certainly not if you give them reason to believe otherwise."

"You're the Prince, though," Nicaise said scornfully. "Not everyone has the luxury of being in such a position."

"I think you're aware that it hasn't always been purely a luxury for me. Is that why you're really here, Nicaise?" asked Laurent. "Are you seeking some empathy for your own position?"

"You know."

"Yes," Laurent said. "I'm not an Alpha, so it's less obvious, but I can still smell it on you up to a point."

Nicaise made a face. "Don't pretend you even need to be able to smell it. I don't think you ever had any doubt."

No, he hadn't really. Laurent had always suspected that Nicaise, on the verge of fourteen if he hadn't already crossed that threshold by now, would be shifting scents around about now.

"You lied the last time we spoke, when you said you thought I'd turn out to be a Beta," Nicaise accused.

"Yes," Laurent admitted. "Though for once, it was a lie that was well-meant, rather than being for my own benefit."

"Well I didn't believe it anyway," Nicaise said arrogantly. "You can't fool me."

"You've always been smarter than is perhaps good for you," Laurent agreed.

"The Regent didn't think so. He treated me like an idiot at the end, like being an Omega meant I could no longer comprehend what he said to me. He even told me that he'd still visit me once my gender became common knowledge and I was forced out of my position in the palace," Nicaise said spitefully. "Presumably only until my first heat came and I no longer amused him, of course. But he said he'd enjoy watching me being fucked in the way of a brothel whore, not a treasured pet. Though, you know, I'm not so sure it was actually me he was imagining watching in that position."

Laurent's gut churned. If Nicaise didn't know for sure, then it was clear that he at least strongly suspected, and was willing to prod at Laurent to see if the truth would further reveal itself through Laurent's reactions. Nicaise had learned to be far too perceptive. 

Luckily, Laurent had learned to conceal his reactions well back when he was still Nicaise's age. 

"My uncle underestimated you if he thought to speak so openly. He did the same to me once," Laurent commiserated. "But you can rest assured, what he predicted won't be your future."

"Because you're going to kill him?"

"Yes, that," Laurent said, as if it were just that simple. "And because, even apart from that, you're not going to be forced into a brothel at all," Laurent promised.

"There's no other role for me now," Nicaise denied. "An Omega is considered a prize only as long as no one's already won it. No Alpha wants to settle for a mate who everyone knows is used goods. Without some kind of sponsor, it's that or starve to death."

Laurent smiled humourlessly, all teeth. "Who says you'd have no one to sponsor you? I would, if that was your choice. There can be no objection to an Omega having an Omega as a pet, though obviously I wouldn't use you as my uncle and his associates have. I'm sure we could be useful to each other in other ways."

"Omegas don't take pets of their own," Nicaise said.

"Vere will within the year have an Omega as King for the first time on record," Laurent reminded him. "I think you can assume that expectations of what an Omega can and can't do will be changing dramatically in short order."

Nicaise looked as if he were stubbornly clinging to the idea that Laurent was lying, perhaps to himself, but certainly to Nicaise. But eventually something in his face shifted. Laurent had never seen his expression so open, not even when it suited his designs to give off the impression of innocence.

"Then here," Nicaise said. From the plain travelling clothes that had replaced his usual eye-catching bright silks, Nicaise withdrew a set of old, yellowed parchments that clashed with his youthful countenance. He half held them out, and then paused, that air of suspicion returning for a moment. "If you break your word after I give these to you, I swear I'll find a way to make you regret it, even if I have to break out of the brothels to do so."

"I believe it," Laurent said. "And I wouldn't do that to you anyway."

The parchments were laid into Laurent's hands.

"For what it's worth," Nicaise said, sounding grudging, as if he weren't used to having to say such things, "I'm sorry."

Laurent didn't understand why until he'd left and Laurent unfolded the letter.

When Laurent finished reading, the parchment fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

He'd never imagined…

But he should have. Laurent really should have known.

It wasn't that Laurent had ever been overly close with his father, though he hadn't hated him. Father's death simply hadn't had much more of an emotional impact on Laurent than the man had managed to make while still living. Laurent thought that Father might have felt much the same if it had been Laurent who'd been struck down by a supposedly Akielon arrow. Compared with Auguste's passing at the same time, the thought of King Aleron's death had seemed to Laurent to be only a pale shadow; something Laurent mostly regretted because it had given Uncle the rule of Vere, not on an overly personal level. 

So this churning in Laurent's gut now wasn't grief for his father's newly-understood fate as much as it was disgust that Uncle had been even more responsible for everything horrible in Laurent's life than Laurent had previously thought.

Laurent had once blamed Damen for all of it, including for his uncle. He'd thought that if Damen hadn't killed Auguste, none of the rest of it would have been allowed to happen, so he was ultimately the one responsible.

But if Damen hadn't killed Auguste in battle, it seemed likely now that Auguste still would never have been allowed to make it away from the fields of Marlas alive anyway. Or perhaps he would have been allowed to live just long enough to return to Arles to be crowned, only to be attacked while sleeping in his palace bedroom on the eve of his coronation instead. Either way, Uncle had by now proven himself willing to plan for his own brother's and his youngest nephew's deaths. It seemed unlikely that he wouldn't eventually have targeted Auguste as well.

And Auguste had been too like Damen; he'd never have seen it coming, especially from family.

It occurred to Laurent now that he had lain with his father's killer as well as his brother's, even if only one of them had made the kill with his own sword. They were the only two men who'd ever touched him that way who hadn't ended up dead within minutes of trying it. 

There had to be something wrong with Laurent for allowing that to come to pass. Especially when all he wanted to do now was seek out the man who'd cut his brother down, in search of something far different than vengeance.

He couldn't stop himself in the end. Laurent ended up outside Damen's tent almost without consciously deciding to. He hesitated at the opening for a moment, but he ultimately swept the flap aside.

Damen only had to take one look at Laurent's face before he dropped what he was working on and asked, concerned, "What's wrong?"

Everything.

"Nothing," Laurent lied. "I just… wanted to see you."

He wanted comfort, not that he'd ever say so. He knew that even if he didn't ask for it, Damen would offer it freely.

"I thought you were worried that your men would come looking for you and find you in the wrong tent," Damen said.

His men, if Vannes was to be believed, already probably expected as much. And so far, they were still standing ready to follow Laurent's orders. Perhaps proof of the rumours' truth would make a difference, but Laurent couldn't bring himself to care all that much about that risk in the face of everything else that was on his mind tonight.

Laurent took the few steps forward that took him to the edge of Damen's sleeping pallet. 

Laurent held out his wrist like an offering and reminded Damen, "You said you wanted to unlace me."

Laurent thought that Damen might object to being treated like a servant, especially inside his own royal tent. But it must have been obvious to him what Laurent was really offering here, for Damen eventually reached out and set to work at loosening the ties that currently held Laurent's silken armour in place.

Once the outer jacket was loosened, Laurent stripped it off, and then the shirt followed it minutes later. The last remaining layer, his white undershirt, might as well not even be there. It was so thin that Damen would be able to make out shadows highlighting the light muscles gained from wielding a sword. No one would have been able to tell from Damen's reaction to Laurent standing before him half-undressed but still technically covered up that Damen had just a week ago spent three straight days with Laurent stretched out entirely naked before him. It was the same way Damen had looked at Laurent the first time he'd caught him in just his under layers.

Damen's fingers reached for the ties at the wrist of Laurent's undershirt.

"Is this a usual part of foreplay in Vere?" Damen asked as he worked. "Spending half an hour or more stripping off layers before you can move on to the rest?"

"Not in my experience," Laurent said, which seemed to affect Damen strangely. His hands stopped moving. Perhaps Damen didn't want to be reminded that Laurent _had_ experience at all. He'd responded so badly to learning of it, Laurent recalled. It was likely as Nicaise had said; no Alpha wanted their Omega to come to them already used, especially as some Beta's sloppy seconds.

But that reaction – how angry Damen had clearly been in that moment – seemed so at odds with how caringly Damen reached for Laurent now, even just moments after being reminded that his weren't the only hands that had touched Laurent. Damen abandoned the task of undressing Laurent to smooth his palms over Laurent's waist for a moment, warm and oddly soothing.

"We don't have to do anything more than just this," Damen offered.

Of course they didn't. Laurent certainly wasn't in heat anymore, with the accompanying seemingly endless drive towards completion. His control was intact, more or less. He could choose to act however he liked.

And yet, over the past few days, Laurent had still found himself experiencing this sharp and undeniable desire. It drew to the forefront of his mind a myriad of hazy memories from his last heat: everything from wildly thrusting into Damen's grip to feather-light kisses against Laurent's back as he shivered in the aftermath of climax. Laurent might not _need_ to continue this now the way he had then, but he certainly wanted it just as much.

Besides, Laurent didn't know for sure how it was going to go when they got to Chastillon. He might never get this chance again.

"I don't want to stop at this," Laurent said.

"Then what would you like?" Damen asked, behaving as the solicitous Alpha, as always. Laurent often wished the idiot would stop treating Laurent like his cherished mate (except when his instincts were screaming for him to seek comfort with his Alpha, like now, but Laurent didn't like to acknowledge that those moments actually existed).

Instead of responding in words, Laurent pushed Damen backwards onto the pallet. Damen's hands found his hips as Laurent straddled him. It was almost like a re-enactment of how Damen had described it might have gone between them, except that Damen wasn't undressed or chained up, and Laurent wasn't hoping to have Damen use just his mouth on him.

"Are you sure?" Damen asked.

The frustration of the day washed over Laurent like a wave. Laurent sat back on his heels, letting Damen's hands fall away. "Would you stop being so considerate?" Laurent said bitterly. "Stop asking what I want. Stop trying to prove you're a good man. You've already made it hard enough to ignore the best parts of you. Stop making me forget the worst as well."

"What would you have me do instead?" Damen asked. "Pretend that I don't care that you're unsettled somehow?"

"If I am unsettled, this is how I'm choosing to deal with it. Are you going to take that decision out of my hands, thinking you know better than me, like a typical condescending Alpha?" Laurent asked.

Damen looked unsure how to respond to that. It was clear that part of him wanted exactly what Laurent was offering, and perhaps even more than that. But at the same time, he seemed to be held back by genuine worry about Laurent. It was hard for Laurent to maintain his righteous indignation and irritation for long in the face of that.

Laurent finally sighed. "I learned today that Akielos wasn't responsible for the assassination of the King of Vere at Marlas after all; it was my uncle that had my father killed. I found out that he's manipulated my life more than I ever understood. What I want now is something that I know my uncle didn't set up for me. Under other circumstances, he would have probably laughed at the thought of me letting Damianos of Akielos touch me, thinking it would break me." Laurent reached for Damen's hand, clasping it in his own. He swore, "This is not the thing that will ruin me. I know you won't hurt me. But neither do I need you to protect me from this. I know what I want."

Damen didn't let his hand fall away from Laurent's, but with his other hand he brushed over Laurent's cheek. "Tell me what that is."

"What I want is for you to fuck me, the way you couldn't when I was in heat," Laurent said.

It couldn't have come as that much of a surprise, under the circumstances. And yet Damen hadn't looked quite that stunned since he first caught sight of Laurent's already-short chiton being blown even higher by the border breeze.

Laurent drew the hand clasped in his down to his upper thigh. Damen's fingers flexed as Laurent let go, and then they travelled inwards under their own steam.

"Shall I unlace you here as well?" Damen asked. 

"I told you, the laces aren't designed as a tool of foreplay. So hurry up and just do it already."

"Suddenly impatient?" Damen asked.

"Why aren't you?" Laurent asked.

"Oh, you have no idea," Damen admitted. "But you're worth waiting for, as long as necessary."

Laurent felt a blush spread across his face, and it had nothing to do with Damen's fingers now working the ties of his pants loose, even though, with his fingers so close, he was aware that surely Damen couldn't help but notice that Laurent was half-hard just from this.

The hot feeling in his cheeks still hadn't faded away by the time Damen went to his knees and abandoned the untied laces of Laurent's pants to reach instead for Laurent's boots. Laurent's hands found the curls of Damen's hair as Damen removed the first boot. Laurent wasn't rightly sure whether he was using that contact to steady himself in response to Damen lifting one of his feet off the ground, putting him physically off-balance, or to Damen pressing a hot kiss against Laurent's thigh while he did so. 

Like this, on his knees and attending to Laurent, and particularly in the half-darkness inside the tent, Damen might almost have been a pet, or a slave. But Laurent could never mistake him for anything other than a King and a warrior, even like this. His momentary submission didn't change that. 

Perhaps it didn't need to for Laurent either.

Once the second boot was removed, and Damen looked back up at Laurent's face, Laurent kicked the pants free. 

Now that Damen could see the most intimate parts of Laurent, he made a frustrated noise that the rest of Laurent's body was still half-hidden beneath Laurent's undershirt, which was still tied down the front, a long path of string cinching it tight against Laurent's skin. That was apparently the limit of Damen's tolerance. Instead of wasting the long minutes it would take to release the white shirt the usual way, Damen took the bottom of the flimsy material in both hands and yanked roughly. The shirt didn't put up much of a fight, but it did make a loud ripping sound that must have been audible from at least five tents over.

Laurent's mouth fell open.

Apparently Damen _was_ impatient after all. 

Laurent tried, and failed, not to find the ridiculous display arousing.

"I really am going to have to contact that cloth merchant if my clothes keep getting ruined," Laurent said as he flicked the scraps off his shoulders, revealing his bare torso, and then pulled the remaining intact material past his wrists and away, so that he was finally entirely naked.

"Are you really going to talk about other Alphas right now?" Damen asked.

"Jealous?"

"No," Damen decided. "There's no reason to be. I'm the only Alpha who's allowed to touch you like this."

"Yes," Laurent agreed, and Damen took it as one last permission.

Already on his knees, Damen was in the perfect position to press a barely-there kiss to the head of Laurent's cock, making it jump slightly, as if seeking out more. Laurent shivered, his fingers flexing as if to clench into a fist, but there was nothing to hold onto. Except Damen.

"That's not what I asked for," Laurent reminded him. 

"These things don't have to follow a script, you know," Damen said. "It's alright to get a little distracted along the way."

Laurent couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed himself to be distracted, before Damen.

His head fell back slightly as he allowed Damen to lick along his hipbone, and kiss the hollow beside it, working his way back inwards. His eyes closed, as if that might somehow make it less intense rather than more so. When Damen's mouth brushed over Laurent's cock again, Laurent couldn't even think to object again. His breath left him unsteadily. He'd made it all the way to full hardness too quickly, barely needing any direct touch. Laurent had the feeling the rest might go too quickly tonight as well, despite the fact that he really wanted to savour it. He already felt as though he were on the knife's edge.

Damen apparently sensed it too, for he drew away slightly to give Laurent a moment to catch his breath, as if that would be long enough. Damen's hands on Laurent's hips guided him backwards gently until Laurent's back slid sinuously against the silk of Damen's sheets. Now, instead of being huddled incongruously in front of Laurent, like an offering, Damen loomed slightly over him, as was more usual between them. Laurent shouldn't have found that kind of discrepancy comforting.

When Damen ran trailing fingers up the inside of Laurent's thigh, Laurent's knees fell open to allow him access without a thought. It occurred to him briefly that it probably wasn't a good idea to let Damen get him where he wanted him so easily. 

But it felt like a good idea when Damen bent down, his back arching slightly to bring their faces close, and claimed a kiss. Laurent's mouth fell slack for a moment, an open invitation, before he leaned into it. Laurent thought he tasted himself ever so slightly on Damen's lips and strangely wasn't repulsed by it. Quite the opposite. These were the lips that had just been leaving wet trails over his skin, and pleasuring him just because Damen wanted to do so. Laurent panted into the kiss, breathing their shared air in gulps.

As if he thought that doing so might break whatever spell was between them, Damen resisted ending the kiss, even as his hand fumbled audibly off to his right for a moment. That hand then returned between Laurent's legs while his other arm braced his weight. This time, though, Damen didn't content himself with studying the smooth texture of the length of Laurent's inner thighs with his fingertips. His hand instead dipped further. His fingers brushed over puckered skin. 

It seemed that since the last time Laurent had barged into Damen's tent, he'd decided it would be prudent to keep some oil on hand. Laurent would have chastised him for the presumptuousness if he weren't thankful for it now.

The oil coating Damen's fingers was cold, slow to be warmed by Damen's body heat, and now by Laurent's. Despite himself, Laurent jolted slightly at the sensation. It was so different to when Damen had touched him during heat, when they'd needed no such preparation; when Laurent had been almost burning to the touch and all too ready for something that never quite came. Different, but not necessarily worse, Laurent decided. 

Though for a moment, Laurent recalled the only other times he'd been touched this way outside of heat, and nearly recoiled. But Damen's scent cleared his head as much as the oxygen he gasped in with it, reminding Laurent where, and with whom, he was.

He tried to keep his reactions contained as Damen pushed his fingers into Laurent, slowly working him up to taking three at a time. Damen's lips on his helped to keep some of the sounds reined in. But Laurent couldn't quite contain the husky noise he made as Damen finally broke away from Laurent's mouth so that he could instead bend down and kiss Laurent's neck. Laurent had had no idea before meeting Damen that such a seemingly innocuous patch of skin could be so sensitive. As Damen determinedly explored the taste of him there and audibly breathed in his scent, Laurent shuddered hard enough that it felt like he was fracturing apart.

Damen could surely feel that shaking, along with Laurent's pulse racing under his lips. It hardly mattered. Laurent's hard cock pressed against the equally hard muscles of Damen's abdomen was more than enough of a giveaway on its own, even if Damen had somehow managed to miss all the other signals Laurent couldn't help but give off, helpless to contain himself under Damen's ministrations.

Laurent had once imagined that if an Alpha had ever been in a position to fuck him, whatever followed from there would have been something primal, nearly savage. Anyone who looked upon Damen for the first time would probably have imagined that that would be the way he'd go about bedding his conquests. Laurent had long expected that the only way this could happen would be for him to be bent over and made to feel it, almost like a punishment. 

Part of him would even have welcomed that tonight, to relieve him of the guilt of doing this voluntarily with his brother's killer, after failing to stop it with his father's.

Of course Damen wasn't about to oblige him in that. But even knowing Damen as well as Laurent now thought he did, though, Laurent hadn't expected this level of tenderness. It was that, rather than the actual sensations, pleasurable as they were, that was really undoing him.

He found himself shifting under Damen's touch, pressing into him and seeking closeness. Their chests pressed together, Damen's weight heavy but not unwelcome, as Damen's free hand moved to Laurent's hair, cupping his head and tilting it back and to the side to give him more room to suck on Laurent's skin, teasing him with just the barest hint of sharp teeth. When Laurent cried out, it certainly wasn't in protest against Damen's Alpha possessiveness, even though he was undoubtedly leaving a proprietary mark on Laurent's pale skin. 

Laurent's whole body moved against Damen's, his hips finding a rhythm of their own accord. Laurent thought to warn Damen off, then, or to push him away, but both options seemed outside his grasp right now.

Laurent couldn't entirely stifle his cry as he climaxed against Damen. 

Damen released Laurent's neck as he let himself fall onto his side so that he could curl Laurent against him, holding his shuddering body. 

"I didn't mean to…"

"I know," Damen said. "But that's alright. It felt good, didn't it, to give up control for once?"

Laurent was too honest in that moment; he nodded.

"Then you shouldn't worry. Like I said: there's no set schedule. And we have plenty of time for whatever else you want," Damen promised.

It didn't feel like that was true. Laurent felt the press of days on them. They would set out north tomorrow, and then they'd have maybe two more nights before their armies engaged in whatever battle Uncle waited to engage them in. Laurent couldn't be sure of what would come after that. He couldn't be sure that his plan would work, and he knew what it would probably mean if it didn't.

But they had tonight.

Laurent pressed his lips to Damen's chest. "Don't let me fall asleep," Laurent said. He didn't want to miss whatever short window they did have for certain.

Damen caressed a hand soothingly through his hair and said nothing as Laurent inevitably drifted off. 

When Laurent awoke, he blinked, disoriented. He could feel that he was naked, yet he was overly warm despite that. It took time to realise that he wasn't sleeping on a pillow, but rather Damen's chest, which was rising and falling rhythmically under him. No wonder he'd been lulled into oblivion.

"You weren't supposed to let me sleep," Laurent accused.

"I never promised that," Damen replied, still awake himself. "You were only out for an hour or so, anyway."

"And you spent a whole hour just watching me sleep?" Laurent asked.

"I can't think of many better ways I could have spent that hour, actually," Damen said. Laurent finally shifted so that he could look up at Damen's face, finding that Damen was smiling affectionately down at him.

"Can't you?" Laurent challenged. 

Damen's smile turned a touch sly. "Obviously it's a different matter now that you're awake as well. But at the risk of you biting my head off again, is that still what you want?"

It was true that something of Laurent's desperate need to ground himself after his earlier revelations and contemplations had faded with climax and sleep. But Laurent couldn't deny that he still wanted this, while he could have it. 

It took far more effort than it had earlier to rouse Laurent, but Damen didn't seem deterred. By the time Laurent was hard and making embarrassing little huffing breaths with every stroke, Damen's other hand had already worked himself back to readiness much more quickly. 

Damen chose to let go of himself rather than Laurent to reach for more oil, though Laurent suspected that might be less due to consideration for him than because Damen was far closer to losing it than Laurent was at this point. 

When Damen's fingers pressed into Laurent, it was this time all three fingers at once, belying Damen's desire to finally have more than just his fingers inside Laurent. Laurent clutched at the sheets under him, but he didn't complain about the abruptness the way he undoubtedly would have under other circumstances. Both of them had already waited long enough for this by now without drawing it out even further, as much as Laurent would undoubtedly have enjoyed that. He'd enjoy it this way too. Damen would make sure of that.

Damen breathed into Laurent's ear, "It'll be easier if you're lying on your front."

Part of Laurent would have appreciated the ability to bury his face in the sheets, shielding his expression from Damen's gaze, so that he couldn't see the full extent of how Damen affected Laurent even when there was no heat on which to blame his reactions. The other part acknowledged that that meant Laurent wouldn't be able to see Damen's face either. Without that anchor, it would be too easy to lose himself to memories, at least this first time, until he'd created better memories to fall back on.

Though that was assuming they ever had more than just this once. Laurent caught himself hoping for the future again. He needed to stop doing that.

"No, I'm not doing this on my knees," Laurent said, as if that were really the problem. "I want you to fuck me just like this." 

Damen didn't argue. He just scooped his palm under Laurent's knee so that he could loop Laurent's leg behind Damen's back. Laurent followed his lead with his other leg, encircling Damen's waist and trapping him against Laurent. Not that he thought that Damen was likely to complain about this kind of temporary captivity. 

Damen ran his fingers down Laurent's chest, as if unable to help himself when Laurent was on offer in front of him, available to be touched without sanction. When his fingers reached the slight softness of Laurent's belly, Damen's fingertips circled for a moment, drawing teasing figure-eights into Laurent's skin. Laurent sighed, shifting under the touch.

It was only reluctantly that Damen eventually shifted his hand away from Laurent to take hold of himself again, though this time it wasn't to encourage himself to hardness. He certainly didn't need any more help with that, from what Laurent could feel when Damen directed himself into place.

Their eyes were glued together as the first slide inwards forced a soft noise from Laurent's lips. Although there was a burning edge to the feeling, it wasn't a pained sound that Laurent released. The lack of apprehension in Damen's eyes said that he could clearly tell as much. But Damen kept his movements slow and careful nonetheless, probably in deference to Laurent's relative inexperience. Though he might equally just be catering to Laurent's presumed desire for a gradual build-up. 

Either way, it was clear that it was costing Damen something to keep things so shallow and slow, too gentle to do more than tease either of them. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes kept falling shut as if not being able to see Laurent was the only way he was managing to keep himself in check.

Damen, Laurent recalled, wasn't one for restraining himself from pursuing pleasure, given the choice.

"Don't hold back on my account," Laurent said, his voice slightly strained. "I want to feel you."

Laurent's hands gripped Damen's back as their movements gained some small amount of force and speed, though Damen still hesitated to unleash himself the way he'd obviously like to. Laurent's fingernails dug in enough to probably leave red marks even on Damen's olive skin, but Damen just grunted in pain-touched pleasure, and thrust deeper into him.

" _Laurent_ ," Damen said, the word breaking halfway through.

"I asked you to fuck me the way you would have during heat," Laurent reminded him.

And there went the last of Damen's control.

The deep penetration of Damen's cock was so much better than having fingers inside him, whether they were Damen's or his own. Laurent barely restrained his moans as Damen pushed both of them towards a fullness of pleasure that Laurent, even during heat, hadn't thought to strive for. He brushed something deep inside of Laurent that initially made him shout, shocked, and then groan each successive time Damen rediscovered that precise angle. 

All the while, one of Damen's hands stroked Laurent's cock in a steady tempo, much gentler than the countering rhythm he was now setting with his hips. Laurent was digging his heels into Damen's back and arching his back eagerly into it. Even so, Damen's other arm looped low around Laurent's back, sliding between him and the mattress, to pull Laurent's body more firmly towards his own when Laurent apparently didn't meet Damen's movements quite hard enough. 

Damen buried his face in Laurent's neck, not to kiss him this time, or to leave a visible claim, but to muffle a disjointed litany of nonsense that came out in Akielon. Damen's hold on Veretian had obviously lapsed for the moment.

Laurent could identify with that. His own hold on everything but Damen seemed tenuous.

"I want to see you come undone," Laurent replied, hoping Damen still understood Veretian well enough even if he'd spoken in his native tongue.

Whether he fully understood or not, Damen, who'd been waiting months for this – who had only been able to reach completion once in Laurent's presence, and even then, not in response to any touch from Laurent – was clearly unable to hold back any longer.

Laurent rode out Damen's shudders, clenching purposefully around him, which made Damen shout out all the louder and clench the sheets beside Laurent's face in a tight fist that would have bruised if it had been Laurent he was gripping. 

Damen fell boneless on top of him, jarring a grunt from Laurent. Laurent pushed at Damen's chest until Damen apparently found the wherewithal to roll to the side.

"Don't even think about it," Laurent said when Damen blinked in the slow way of tiredness about to turn into unconsciousness. Laurent looked pointedly down at his own still-hard cock, which Damen's wide hand was still loosely encircling, though it was no longer moving or doing much of anything other than shielding most of Laurent's shaft from view.

"It would serve you right if I left you unsatisfied," Damen remarked.

But it was Laurent who had always been focused on balancing the scales between them, not Damen. Laurent doubted that Damen had any real concept of what it would actually mean for them to be 'even'. 

So Damen's grip firmed, though his movements were carried out with the laziness of his own satiation, a strange contrast to the wildness of their coupling just moments ago. Laurent didn't mind, though. 

After all, this was how it would be if they had days on end to spend together, without the desperation of heat driving them, without months of denial dousing too much fuel onto their fire, and without a war just days from its potential conclusion hanging over their heads.

This was how a true courtship between them really might have ended, Laurent knew now: not with barbed remarks and attempts to goad the other to move faster, as Damen had claimed during the start of Laurent's most recent heat, but quietly and tenderly.

Laurent had difficulty with ultimately letting go while Damen was watching him expectantly, but Damen seemed to be more than willing to touch him for as long as necessary; for as long as Laurent would allow, really. It was clear that he wanted to watch Laurent come this time, not just feel the evidence of it pulsing against him and experience the quaking of Laurent's body.

Laurent didn't quite give himself over to climax so much as it was drawn out of him almost unawares. Laurent was kept on the edge by his own intractability for so long that it was a surprise when his body decided that it had had enough. 

Laurent scrabbled for something to hold onto as his body spilled of itself, finding Damen's seeking hand. Damen simultaneously caught both Laurent's release in his fingers and Laurent's shocked exclamation with his own mouth. The kiss was brief this time, a mere punctuation on their other actions, but no less welcome for it.

"Was that what you wanted?" Damen eventually asked when Laurent's gasping breaths had evened out somewhat.

"You keep asking me what I want," Laurent said. "What is that _you_ want, now that you've already managed to get me into your bed?"

"I think you know," Damen said. 

Yes. Laurent understood that Damen had been thinking a long way into the future well before Laurent had started to consider even the distant possibility of there being any such a thing as a future between them.

"I meant right now," Laurent said. "If all we had was tonight, how would you like to spend it?"

"In that case, what I'd really want to do is to ride west with you," Damen said with feeling. It took Laurent a long moment to realise that he was referring to the story Laurent had shared months ago, on his birthday; that he what he actually meant was that he'd like for this day to never end.

"You're a little late for that. The sun has already long since set," Laurent reminded him.

Damen said, "We could always ride away from the sunrise instead."

"I'm not that same boy I was at thirteen, you know. As it turns out, I've realised since then that I would much rather move towards something than run from anything," Laurent said, his meaning obvious. 

Damen smiled, knowing. "Good. I would too."


	32. Chapter 32

When Laurent woke up half sprawled against Damen for the second time since entering his tent, it was starting to grow light outside. Damen was asleep instead of watching him this time, his deep rumbling breaths more like the low purr Laurent would expect of an exotic jungle cat than anything Laurent would label as snoring. 

Part of Laurent wanted to lie here for a while, just basking in this moment, uncaring of whether he might accidentally fall back to sleep. But he knew he'd already taken as much time out of reality as he could. They'd have to ready the army to move for Chastillon this morning.

Laurent slipped out of bed, and was surprised he didn't wake Damen in doing so. He found a jug of water and dampened the scraps of what was once his undershirt.

Laurent knelt beside the sleeping pallet and swiped the cloth carefully over Damen's belly, where the remains of Laurent's spend from early in the night had been allowed to dry.

It was strange to do this for someone else, the way one of the Akielon slaves might have bathed Damen before he'd started sending them away in recent months, or how Laurent's own attendants would have if he were the kind of royalty who balked at having to do even the most intimate of menial tasks himself. It should have felt unbearably subservient for Laurent to place himself in such a position. Instead, Laurent enjoyed the feeling of Damen's muscles under his hand, relaxed with sleep but still notably defined under his skin, even if Laurent's sense of touch was muted by the fragment of cloth between them.

"Trying to wash your scent off me?" Damen asked.

Caught out, Laurent frowned. "I… Yes."

Damen's eyes blinked open and met Laurent's. "Really? Or are you just being a considerate lover?" He looked Laurent over. "You know, I'd never have dreamed of having you attend to me before you even washed yourself."

Laurent dropped the damp cloth on his bare chest. "Wipe yourself down, then, if you're going to be smug about it."

Damen pushed the rag aside and propped himself up on his elbow, bringing himself closer to being eye-to-eye with Laurent. "This isn't smugness," Damen insisted. "This is happiness. Though I understand why you might not immediately recognise it."

Was that what this odd sensation that had been bubbling in Laurent's chest since he woke up was? It was so long since he'd experienced any such thing. Years ago, Laurent knew it had been easily elicited by even quiet moments spent doing nothing of importance with Auguste. Since his brother's death, though, it had always seemed worlds away, even when Laurent was in the middle of celebrating his greatest victories.

Laurent supposed it was fitting, in an odd way, that the same man who'd taken it from him was now the one to give it back. 

"Much as I hate to say it," Damen said, "I actually had better finish this up myself, if you're going to make it back to your own tent before the soldiers awake and see their half-dressed Prince emerge from the wrong tent."

Given what Vannes had said the previous evening, and especially considering the distinctive noises that must surely have been audible from outside Damen's tent, it was probably far too late for that now. 

Still, there was no point risking the embarrassment of anyone actually seeing him like this. He'd prefer to hang onto as much of his troop's respect as possible. So Damen was right: best not to be seen, at least not looking like this. 

Laurent slipped on his still-intact outer layers of clothing and chose not to waste the time it would take to lace them, or to try to get Damen to do so. He directed one last meaningful look at Damen before taking advantage of the still early morning air to creep unseen across the short distance to the entrance of his own tent.

The Beta servant who came to fill a bath for Laurent and then dress him didn't comment on the state of him, even though the attendant wouldn't have needed an Alpha's or Omega's sense of smell to suspect what might have put Laurent's appearance into such disarray. Thankfully, unlike how he selected his soldiers, Laurent chose his servants for their discretion. If news of this newest development spread, it wouldn't originate from this man.

Laurent emerged looking once more flawlessly put together, though he self-consciously raised his hand to his throat to make sure the neck of his jacket hadn't slipped down at all. As it was, it was barely covering the vivid mark Damen had left on him. It wouldn't matter how pristine Laurent's clothing looked if anyone caught sight of that.

As soon as Laurent was feeling properly composed, like his internal fortifications had been repaired, he summoned Enguerran to his tent. Enguerran didn't look at him any differently that morning than he had during any of their previous meetings, so perhaps Laurent's efforts to keep up appearances really were successful. Though, then again, Enguerran had indicated in Fortaine that he was aware that Laurent grieved for Damen when he'd thought him dead. Perhaps it was simply that Enguerran was just too used to the idea by now to pay it much mind if Laurent did look freshly fucked.

Laurent ran through a few last details for final preparations to ride for Chastillon. He could hear that the men were already packing away the camp and readying themselves outside. They'd leave within the hour.

But that wasn't really why Laurent had called Enguerran to his side right now, for the Captain was more than capable of overseeing the breakdown of camp without Laurent's help. After all, he'd been doing it for weeks while Laurent travelled separately from Enguerran's group of soldiers, and presumably on and off for years of patrolling the border and combating Akielos before he'd even met Laurent.

No, Laurent's true intention was to run something far more important past him.

"This is to remain entirely secret until the time comes," Laurent said. "You must swear to me that you'll tell no more than five men you can be certain are absolutely loyal."

Enguerran seemed aware that Laurent meant that last part as a contingency in case of Enguerran's death in battle, and didn't sound offended by Laurent's practicality. He was a soldier through and through. He understood the realities of the situation. Instead, he agreed readily.

Though with every successive word that followed that, it looked as though he regretted promising his Prince as much.

"Your Highness, the risk…" Enguerran said.

"Is great," Laurent conceded. "As is the reward. Can you see a better way of getting to the Regent without massive loss of life and potentially months' worth of siege when he's far too shrewd to leave the safety of the fortress?"

"We could simply barricade him inside once we've beaten his army," Enguerran pointed out. "The loss of soldiers would be unfortunate, but it might be a necessity. And what does it matter if the Regent has Chastillon if you have the rest of the country?"

"The tide can turn quickly. Just a few short months ago, I only had one fortress to my name as well," Laurent reminded him, "and that fortress was off in a forgotten corner, and not even technically part of Vere, not situated just a day's ride from the capital. Added to that, Uncle is persuasive when he wants to be, and there are too many powerful people who likely would benefit more under his continued rule than they will mine. So until my uncle is dead and my claim is uncontested, my hold on Vere will be fragile at best. And it's not just the Regent inside Chastillon at present. I'm informed the Council moved there along with him. I need their support in order to be crowned when I reach my majority."

Enguerran didn't look happy about it, but he still did acknowledge the logic of that. 

"If it does look as though it hasn't worked the way I've planned, though," Laurent added, "I ask that you don't tell the King of Akielos what's going on unless it becomes… unavoidable. It's likely he'd do something stupid enough to bring his rule to an abrupt end, and for no benefit."

"You want us to protect him," Enguerran said. It wasn't a question.

Laurent had asked the same of Jord, and forty-nine other trusted soldiers, most of whom had died for it. But just as it was then, Damen was integral to the success or, at the very least, the survival of Laurent's men.

"From himself, mostly," Laurent agreed. "It would be in your best interests to keep him alive no matter what. Even in the worst-case scenario, I believe you could take whatever remains of our army and ride back south, in the knowledge that the border fortresses would remain under Akielon protection against my uncle for as long as Damianos rules. And in that case, you should fight with him to help him regain the rest of his kingdom, if he asks it of you. Far better that Akielos should return to its rightful King's reign than stay under Kastor, or worse, Uncle."

"You do intend for this alliance to outlast the fight against the Regent, then?" Enguerran asked. It sounded like he already knew the answer.

Laurent had never meant for that to happen initially. Far from it. Regardless of whether he succeeded or died in the attempt, he'd only ever joined forces with Damen to achieve this one goal: getting rid of Uncle. They would have turned on each other after that. Or Laurent would have turned on Damen, at least.

That plan seemed so distant now.

"Yes," Laurent admitted. "A long-term alliance would be ideal."

It was obvious to both of them what Laurent meant by that.

"Then no harm will come to him as long as any soldier of your army can do anything to prevent it," Enguerran promised Laurent.

"You don't think the men will rebel under such an order?" Laurent asked.

Enguerran's smile was wry. "I think they probably know to do it without even needing to be ordered, at this stage. To protect the King of Akielos is to protect our Prince's interests."

He said nothing else about it, but Laurent understood his meaning. Whether Laurent's men were particularly happy or not about the prince-killer shifting from enemy to something very different, and whether they knew for sure exactly what that 'something different' was, they had come to support Laurent enough that they would stand by him in this.

Laurent clasped his hand to Enguerran's shoulder and said, the way he'd been too stubborn to do with Jord while he could: "Thank you."

The first day's ride seemed filled with an odd nervous energy, though perhaps that was just Laurent projecting his own feelings onto what he saw of the soldiers' dispositions. 

Laurent barely acknowledged Damen directly all day, though they rode side by side as usual. The air between them seemed somehow charged with silent expectation, though, and it felt like Laurent's attention was always half pointed in Damen's direction, even if one of the soldiers was engaging him in conversation at the time. 

After the camp was set up again for the evening on an open field with good visibility, the men started setting up the evening meal. Laurent took the opportunity to make his way into Damen's tent. 

"I thought your fantasy was for me to be in control, and on top," Laurent teased when Damen barely paused before pressing him eagerly down onto the mattress, as if he'd been desperate for this all day and had barely managed to hold himself back until now. Laurent knew the feeling.

"I was under the impression then that that would be the only way you'd ever let me touch you," Damen said. "Is that how you want it? Would you prefer to be on top?"

"Not as much as you would, I think," Laurent said. And to be truthful, part of Laurent enjoyed Damen using his size and strength, and his Alpha presence, the way it was meant to be used. If they had limited time to be together like this, Laurent wasn't going to spend it fighting against his instincts when there was no real reason to.

And if they did have time, which part of Laurent couldn't stop hoping for, then there was always later to explore the rest.

"If I asked you to make sure I'd really feel this for days to come, so I couldn't move without remembering it, would you?" Laurent asked. It was partly curiosity about how far Damen's resolve not to hurt Laurent extended, and partly true desire to have something real to show for this other than the mark on his neck.

"If you weren't going to have to ride a horse for the entirety of the next day, and ride into battle within two days at the most? Absolutely." But not today, was clear from Damen's words. 

Instead, Damen was endlessly careful with him. Even the kisses were like whispers over his skin, making Laurent shiver with how soft they were. When he came apart in Damen's arms, it wasn't a fracturing, but a slow unwinding.

Laurent didn't feel as though he'd been deprived of much when he woke up the next morning with only a small ache, which would probably fade as the day progressed. He wasn't about to forget the minute details of Damen's touch either way, he realised. The memories of their two nights together were crisp, the way his recollections of heat never were.

Laurent was glad he'd let himself have this, regardless of whether it ever got the chance to be more.

By the end of the second day's ride, Chastillon loomed visibly in the distance, its walls rendered half-shadowed by the setting sun. It was a rather less impressive sight than the border fortresses now under Laurent's control, but despite that, from this distance it seemed far less easily impregnable than they'd ended up being.

"You're not planning to climb the wall, are you?" Damen asked warily as he watched Laurent survey the familiar sight of the fortress.

Laurent smirked. "I did tell you that I could. And Uncle certainly wouldn't be expecting that of me. But no, that's not my aim this time."

Chastillon was a much more known quantity to Laurent than Fortaine had been when he'd been planning that attack. Laurent had spent several weeks of his childhood stuck inside this fortress, walking the halls while Auguste and Father joined in on the daily hunts. Father had refused to let him raid the library, back then, trying to get his nine-year-old son to act more outgoing, like his brother, for whom such things came far more naturally. So there had been little else for Laurent to do during the long, lonely daylight hours at Chastillon but explore all the crevasses of the fortress. The only one Laurent had told about what he'd uncovered during those explorations was Auguste. 

Laurent didn't need to scale the walls of Chastillon to make his way inside them. Not that he was about to tell Damen that.

The sight that was less familiar to Laurent now was the city of tents that were erected just beyond the fortresses' walls. There were thousands of them, though certainly not quite as many as would populate Laurent's and Damen's combined camp once it was once again set up. Assuming many of Uncle's soldiers were also garrisoned inside the fortress itself, Laurent estimated there might be as few as five thousand men, or at a stretch as many as eight thousand, but certainly no more than that. As Laurent had thought, he had the numbers on his side.

It wouldn't matter unless they could breach the fortress. And Laurent had already made it clear to everyone on his side that he had no intention of wiping out the entire army that was currently protecting his uncle, and probably at least half of his own men while he was at it, just because they probably could manage to do so. 

They'd still need to engage them, though. Laurent needed a free path through. He just preferred as few casualties as necessary to manage that. 

They arranged the camp to hopefully get a night's rest before facing the Regent's army fresh in the morning, but with the idea that the Regent might decide to take advantage of the fact that they'd been riding for a day and that darkness was about to fall and potentially even the odds to a point. So they set up hundreds of guards to watch for movement from their opponents' side, as well as scouts in every direction to detect any secondary force with which Uncle might try to flank them. The horses and weapons remained ready, and the tents were laid out in such a way that it would take mere minutes for the soldiers to armour up and mount, even if woken from a dead sleep. Visibility was thankfully good enough that they'd have time.

They were ready.

Laurent didn't feel like _he_ was, though. Not yet. Even if it felt like he was just delaying the inevitable, he wanted this last night. 

When Laurent found Damen, though, it wasn't in his tent. Neither was he alone.

He was, by all appearances, being accosted by Nicaise, who had his arms crossed over his belly as if to protect his vulnerable areas from the massive predator that was before him.

This couldn't end well, Laurent thought, and hurried to intervene. 

As Laurent approached, he noted that Nicaise's eyes, as he looked at Damen, were calculating. Initially it occurred to Laurent that Nicaise could easily be considering Damen as an alternative to whatever future Laurent could offer him after this was over. Damen was a King, and therefore was more than capable of treating Nicaise to the lifestyle he'd become accustomed to. He was also an Alpha, and at present would have no idea that Nicaise had, at his age, already served for years as a pet. Though many of the courtiers in Arles had been uncertain precisely who Nicaise's master was, they'd nonetheless only needed to look at him to be aware of what he was. By contrast, even if Nicaise had been dressed in his usual attire, Damen probably wouldn't have known what he was looking at; it would never have occurred to him that a child could be a court pet. And unlike the rest of the Akielon Alphas Nicaise would have potentially had access to over the past few days who would be equally unaware of Nicaise's past, Damen also spoke Nicaise's language fluently.

Damen could, Nicaise might have thought, easily be persuaded into falling for Nicaise's charms, such as they were.

But there was more than a hint of trepidation in Nicaise's expression, too. Damen was an entirely different type of threat to what Nicaise had grown adept at negotiating. Nicaise could probably run rings around Damen politically, especially as he grew older and more experienced, but there was little he could do to defend against any face-off that was physical rather than mental. Surely he wouldn't risk such an uncertain situation unless he had no alternative.

"You don't look anything like the Akielon slaves who arrived in Arles a few weeks ago," Nicaise said, trying not to sound fearful, but failing. Perhaps that was what Nicaise had been hoping for when he'd sought Damen out; someone as soft and pliable as an Akielon slave. Damen only allowed himself to be those things when he wanted to, though. At the moment, he gave off every impression of instead being as unmovable as a mountain.

"The what?" Damen said flatly.

"A gift from Kastor to celebrate the joyous union of our two kingdoms, no doubt," Laurent said as he reached them. 

"There are helpless Akielon slaves inside Arles?" Damen asked darkly.

"You do acknowledge that your slaves are powerless, then?" Laurent asked, a little surprised. He'd assumed that Damen had stopped using slaves mainly because he knew how Laurent felt about it, not because his own opinion had changed that markedly.

"They're perfectly submissive, won't speak the language, and have no understanding of how to deal with the ridiculous intricacies of your Veretian court even if they could understand the words themselves. Of course they're helpless there," said Damen. "You described what the court at Arles might do to you, their own Prince, who can more than look after yourself, if you sufficiently fell from their good graces. What would they do to a group of Akielons who were trained to never fight back?"

"Nothing good," Laurent admitted. "My uncle won't be personally interested in them, but he'll probably loan them out."

"The iron control runs in the family, does it?"

"Oh no," Laurent laughed bitterly. "Quite the opposite. My uncle certainly has his vices, which he indulges only too readily. Your slaves just won't quite match his tastes. He prefers his pets to have certain attributes."

Laurent didn't actually mean for his gaze to flick to Nicaise. Damen followed that glance and obviously saw Nicaise's boyish beauty and strangely lithe, almost adult posture in a different light. He immediately reacted viscerally.

" _He's_ a pet?" 

"No," Laurent said quickly, hoping to deter this potentially dangerous line of conversation before it really began. 

"Not anymore," corrected Nicaise.

So of course, Damen pressed the issue, as he tended to do whenever Laurent would really prefer him to do otherwise. 

"You were the pet of the Regent of Vere? For how long?" Damen was clearly taking in Nicaise's too-youthful appearance and looking appalled by it.

"Years," Nicaise said, somewhat proudly, as if he hadn't quite managed to get his head around the idea that the Regent was no longer his benefactor, and wasn't someone worthy of feeling pride about regardless.

If Laurent were any judge, Damen might almost have been physically sick then.

"Oh, don't gawk at me like I'm something disgusting," Nicaise snapped, mistaking the source of Damen's expression. It was clear that he probably would have spat in Damen's face for the perceived slight if he weren't aware that Damen was a King, and could cut him down for such an insult in an instant without anyone moving to intervene. He didn't have the Regent's protection anymore, and even if he had, Damen certainly wasn't under the Regent's purview. 

"He's not," Laurent insisted. "Come, Nicaise, we clearly have things to discuss in private, don't you think?"

Nicaise ignored him, speaking to Damen instead. "You should know that you and the Regent actually have quite similar tastes." 

"Shut up," Laurent hissed to Nicaise, dread filling him. If Nicaise were older, Laurent probably would have drawn his sword on him then to make _sure_ he stopped talking.

Nicaise apparently sensed that Laurent was holding back against him, and would continue to do so. He finally looked away from Damen, then, so that he could smile superciliously at Laurent.

"Leave us," Laurent said abruptly to Damen instead, knowing that Nicaise wouldn't be waylaid from his goal as long as Damen remained present, a temptation. But Damen only listened to Laurent's orders if he felt he had good reason to, and right now he clearly didn't understand Laurent's sudden urgency, and or why Laurent's face was now reddened. 

"What, you don't think he should know who he's potentially tying himself to?" Nicaise asked. Laurent moved to grab at Nicaise to cover his mouth, even if he would likely be bitten for his trouble, but Nicaise was too quick, skittering back out of Laurent's reach, but sadly not out of his and Damen's earshot. "You were right that the Regent spoke too openly in those last days with me, you know. He even talked about you in bed. Said I wasn't quite as beautiful on my knees before him with tears in my eyes as you were when you were my age, but that we'd still look well matched in the whore houses side by side."

Laurent's eyes darted to Damen, but he already knew what he would see. Damen could be a bit dense at times when it came to believing the best of people above accepting the obvious reality of things, but even he couldn't miss the implications of that.

Damen's expression turned just as violent as it had been when he'd found out that Laurent wasn't untouched after all. He might have known Laurent wasn't a virgin since then, and ultimately accepted that, but it was something else entirely to know that Laurent was so completely tainted that he was also guilty of incest, and that he'd been dirtied from such a young age when clearly Damen's reaction to Nicaise showed how disgusted he was by such things.

Damen turned on his heel, storming off, and something in Laurent wanted desperately to follow, to explain himself, and to beg Damen not to leave. Laurent was stronger than that instinct, though. He didn't need some Alpha to prop him up. Not even this Alpha, especially when it was clear that Damen didn't even want to be there anymore.

"You see," Nicaise said. "When it comes down to it, you're just another ruined Omega, and that's all anyone will see. You're only setting yourself up for disappointment, and maybe even something worse, if you expect more. Better that you find that out now."

Laurent's fist clenched, and Nicaise stepped back again, clearly wary of being hit. Laurent managed to restrain himself, barely. Nicaise was just lashing out wherever he could. It was no less than Laurent expected of him. Laurent would probably have done the same, in his position.

But he wasn't in Nicaise's position. He wasn't just an Omega, ruined or not, abandoned by his Alpha or otherwise. 

He was the Prince of Vere. And he had a war to win. He couldn't afford for Nicaise's words to cost him that much, even if they did take away other possibilities. He had to find a way to hold this alliance together, even if it was just for the next day or two.

Laurent set off in the direction of the commotion that had broken out among the Akielon side of the camp, where Laurent could hear Damen shouting for his horse, as well as for his armour and sword.

Damen's yelling drew Nikandros even quicker than it did Laurent. Nikandros looked between Damen's anger and Laurent's own determined expression as he approached. The way he looked at Laurent might as well have shouted: 'What have you done to him now?'

Damen's horse arrived, and Nikandros said, "We'll march at your command, Exalted, but the army will need a few minutes to ready themselves."

"I don't need an army," Damen said darkly. "I'll mow down every Veretian who stands as traitor to his Prince by myself if they get in my way."

Wait, Laurent thought, what? 

Damen's words made no sense. Laurent understood why Damen might want to ride away from him in disgust, especially as an immediate reaction, before rationality returned to point out that Damen had reason to stay and fight entirely apart from Laurent. But Damen shouldn't, in this moment, have any reason to suddenly hurl himself recklessly towards the Regent without the protection of his own army. 

Laurent had often had some trouble figuring out Damen's motivations, but this time he couldn't just let the uncertainty stand.

"I'll handle this," Laurent announced in Akielon. Nikandros looked at him distrustfully, apparently convinced that Laurent had offended his King somehow. "Leave us," Laurent said, loudly and firmly, the order of a would-be King, even if he wasn't _their_ King. And unlike Damen when Laurent had asked that of him, the gathering Akielons, including a grudging Nikandros, actually complied. They fell back enough that Laurent was satisfied they wouldn't be able to hear, though he switched to speaking in Veretian just in case.

"Explain yourself," Laurent commanded Damen, for all that he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to hear what Damen might have to say about him just now.

"He is _right there_ ," Damen growled, flinging his hand out carelessly to gesture at the fortress, "and I don't care if there's an army and some stone walls in the way. I'm going to kill him. I'll _tear him apart_ for so much as looking in your direction that way."

Oh.

_Oh._

Laurent reached out, the way he'd wanted to since Nicaise had spoken, and grabbed Damen's arm, anchoring him in place. 

"No, you won't," Laurent said, unable to keep the relief from his voice. "I'll be the one to kill him, thanks. And you need to stay here."

Laurent wasn't begging, he told himself. It was an order, not a plea.

A hundred soldiers or more might have had difficulty holding Damen back given his clear single-minded hatred in that moment. And yet Laurent's grip on him was enough. Damen let go of the horse. He looked at Laurent, finally, as he hadn't been able to bring himself to do so before.

"Your _uncle_ …" Damen started.

"Don't," Laurent warned. "Don't say it. And don't look at me like that. I won't be pitied."

"What you're seeing isn't pity," Damen said softly. "I imagine it's the way my face looks when I finally understand something that I never quite fully grasped before."

"No wonder I didn't recognise it, then," said Laurent sharply. "You rarely fully understand anything. You really are an idiot. I almost let you ride off and get yourself killed for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Damen said.

"I don't need you to avenge me," said Laurent. "I'm still alive to fight for myself. Focus on avenging your father, if you absolutely must."

"That's just another reason to want him dead," Damen pointed out. 

"That's the goal," Laurent agreed. "But it matters how we do it. If you slaughter my uncle without warning after I helped your army ride into Vere, I'd never convince anyone that I'm not a traitor to my country, let alone be allowed to take my throne."

"You know I don't think much of the politics of Vere, but if your people, or your Council, knew that your uncle had –"

"Do you seriously believe that I want that to be what they think about every time they look at their future King? They'll never find out. If I'd had my way, you'd have never known either," Laurent said harshly.

"You don't have to worry that my opinion of you has changed; that you're made somehow less in my eyes because of this," Damen said. "I don't regret anything that's happened between us unless you do. I'm yours," Damen said, though it was clear that, with every iota of Alpha possessiveness, he wanted but didn't dare to say 'you're mine'. "Nothing that's happened in your past is going to change that."

Laurent had no idea what to say to that. 

When he remained silent, Damen added, "And I already knew some time ago, anyway. Not that it was your uncle," he said the word as if it were a curse, "or otherwise I'd have ridden for Arles that very day looking for retribution. But you told me once, when you were drunk, that you'd never wanted to lie with anyone. And then weeks later you told me you weren't a virgin. Whatever you might think, I'm not always blind to obvious conclusions."

"You were so angry then," Laurent remembered, suddenly recalling that odd disjointed conversation in a new light that made a lot more sense to him. 

"Not at you," Damen reassured him, which would have been a far more useful confession if he'd said it a few months ago.

"You make everything so needlessly difficult," Laurent said.

" _I_ do?" Damen asked incredulously.

And perhaps Damen was right, in that Laurent should perhaps have known better, and figured it out even back then. Damen had long since proved himself to be above the way Laurent had thought he'd reacted, which was why he'd found it so confusing. But Laurent was so used to expecting the worst, and he still had yet to entirely get used to Damen constantly defying expectations.

Damen seemed reluctant to call his people back over to hand them the procured horse and armour, as if he still thought to convince Laurent that he should be riding off to kill the Regent of Vere painfully right now. But Laurent, in front of the Akielon camp, even though many of the soldiers were still watching them inquisitively from a distance, held out his hand. Damen finally dropped his hold on his armour to take it, and left the horse behind as Laurent led him away, back towards Laurent's tent.

The Veretian soldiers also probably saw them walking hand-in-hand, and saw where they ended up, together. On the eve of battle, and after that morning's conversation with Enguerran, Laurent couldn't bring himself to care enough to hide it anymore.

When Laurent ducked inside his tent, Damen followed willingly without being asked.

"Come here," Laurent said as he backed towards his bed.

"Is that an order?"

Laurent rolled his eyes. "I think you've proved already today that you likely wouldn't follow it if it were."

"No, probably not," Damen said. Then he promptly crossed the floor of the tent to arrive at Laurent's side. 

"You always ask what I want," Laurent said. "Tell me, what if all I want tonight is for you to stay here, and nothing else?"

"Can I at least hold you?" Damen asked.

Laurent hesitated, but eventually nodded, just the slightest incline of his head.

"Then it seems we want the same thing," Damen said.

Laurent let Damen fold himself around Laurent, like a human shield against the world. He gripped at the arm across his chest, bringing it up and placing a kiss to Damen's palm, sighing his relief against Damen's skin for just a moment, before letting Damen's arm settle back against him. 

Damen huffed a responding sigh against Laurent's neck, but where he'd have followed that with a hot kiss under Laurent's jaw on a different night, tonight he followed Laurent's request to just let it be this between them.

Even once Damen drifted off, his breaths evening out into a kind of lullaby, Laurent couldn't sleep. It wasn't precisely the looming battle that was keeping him awake, but rather the knowledge that this could easily be the last time Damen was this close to him. He'd wanted this last night, and he'd got it, even though he'd been certain less than an hour ago that he wouldn't have this now or ever again. He didn't want to waste it. 

Laurent spent the night breathing in Damen's scent, his mind racing with thoughts of a future that might never eventuate, but that Laurent would fight hard to secure.


	33. Chapter 33

Waking up was a languid process, spent luxuriating in the warmth surrounding him and slowly drifting towards the surface of consciousness. That was, at least, right up until the moment when Laurent regained enough wherewithal to remember that there was an opposing army of thousands waiting at most two miles away, which jolted him the rest of the way into wakefulness. That threat was one of several reasons why Laurent hadn't meant to spend any part of the night insensible in the first place. Clearly the siren call of sleep had eventually proved too much, though.

Even once he was reminded of the lurking threat, and of what today would likely bring, Laurent was still loathe to extricate himself. The odds that Laurent would be able to wake up this way tomorrow, with Damen a solid presence against his back, weren't exactly high. He would have liked to enjoy it as long as he could. But Laurent had meant to already be up and moving by now. 

And honestly, it did serve Laurent to be able to quietly creep out of the tent on his own while Damen still slept.

Damen's arm was thrown over Laurent, with the palm of his hand pressed against Laurent's chest, as if taking subconscious comfort in the measure of Laurent's heartbeat. When Laurent went to remove Damen's hold on him, he took just a moment to trace his fingers over Damen's knuckles. He wished he could at least clasp their hands together once more, but he couldn't risk anything other than this feather-light touch without almost certainly waking Damen. Once Laurent cautiously lifted Damen's arm and ducked out from under it, he let that last contact between them fall away. Laurent shivered slightly at the loss, but managed to push himself out of the tent and away.

Laurent didn't get very far before being accosted, though thankfully it wasn't by a recently-awakened Damen wanting to know where Laurent was sneaking off to. 

"You know, I miss the bells that you wore in Arles," Laurent told Nicaise. "They made it nearly impossible for you to sneak up on anyone."

"Are you worried I'll overhear something I shouldn't?" Nicaise asked. "You're a bit late for that."

"Yes, it certainly seems that particular damage was already well and truly done," Laurent agreed. 

With an exaggeratedly delicate sniff in Laurent's direction, Nicaise announced snidely, "And yet, you're still covered in the fresh reek of Alpha." 

Laurent was well aware that he still wore Damen's scent, strong and reassuring. It was all of Damen that he was going to be able to take with him. And right at this moment, Laurent couldn't bring himself to care that anyone other than a Beta who came across him would know it.

Nicaise added judgementally, sounding as if Laurent had disappointed him somehow, "I'd have thought you'd have figured out yesterday that you're better off without some colossal Akielon brute who's just looking to fuck you and fuck you over for your crown. Obviously you're stupider than I thought."

"Did you mean to do me a favour by splitting us apart?" Laurent asked. Laurent realised that that might honestly have been at least part of Nicaise's purpose in trying to drive Damen away from Laurent. Though of course the attempted assistance, if that was actually his intention, was heavily disguised by having been delivered with no shortage of Nicaise's archetypical spite. "If so," Laurent added, "then rest assured that you actually managed to help out after all, even if it was a different type of favour than what you meant. Your revelation clarified a few misconceptions between King Damianos and myself."

"Don't be fooled. If he hasn't already thrown you over, it's only because he just wants a few more fucks for the road," Nicaise said bitterly. Unfortunately, he was probably speaking from experience. "You'll regret it if you let him keep using you now that he'll obviously have decided that it's not worthwhile to court you."

Laurent shook his head. "Oh Nicaise. You know, I spent _months_ trying to convince him of how worthless that endeavour was, without any success. I might almost have been impressed if you'd succeeded in a matter of mere seconds. But you didn't. He's as determined as ever. It might interest you to know that apparently there are decent Alphas who won't let themselves be dissuaded simply by the fact that an Omega has a less than savoury past. If that's an option you'd like to pursue rather than remaining a pet in the palace, I dare say I can help you with that when you're old enough. You might have noticed that I have thousands of loyal and true Alphas to my name now."

"You're about to charge off to fight thousands of experienced soldiers who _aren't_ yours," Nicaise pointed out. "I don't think you can guarantee me much of anything just now."

"I can, though. Regardless of my own fate. Stay by Lady Vannes's side for the duration of the battle," Laurent instructed Nicaise. "She'll be steering clear of the fighting too, and her pet is more than capable of defending you both if needed. And if this should go wrong, and my uncle remains in power indefinitely, Lady Vannes will ride for Vask. You should go with her. You won't be able to bank on being treated like a cherished prize there just because you're an Omega, but you won't be expected to whore yourself either, or be executed as punishment for daring to seek me out instead of just accepting your supposed fate. Lady Vannes will ensure you are given some position befitting the help you've offered me. I've already discussed it with her, and she's agreed."

"If you're making plans for your own defeat, then you're about to do something even more reckless than just leading an army into a war, aren't you?" Nicaise said. 

"I might be," Laurent admitted. "Even so, I'd rather you didn't wish me luck. From you, that would seem like more of a bad omen than anything."

Nicaise sneered half-heartedly. "As if I would bother."

Laurent smiled. "Good."

"Are you coming back again?" Nicaise asked impatiently. A slight blush settled on his otherwise pale cheeks, as if he hadn't meant to say that, and knew that he'd revealed something by doing so.

"Would you believe me this time if I told you I would?" Laurent asked.

"Maybe," Nicaise said cagily.

Laurent didn't want to lie to Nicaise without good reason, though. "I hope so," was all he said. 

Once Laurent took his leave from Nicaise, he went and found the highest point of land in the vicinity of their camp. In the revealing light of early morning, he surveyed what faced him. The tents around Chastillon were discarded, and the throngs of soldiers formed a loose semicircle of a barrier around Chastillon. Those lines would quickly tighten as soon as they saw the enemy approaching, though. 

From this distance, Laurent couldn't see any real details, but he imagined somewhere behind the first line of defence there were archers setting up, ready to launch their arrows over the heads of their own forces and hit whatever men Laurent sent into the valley. That would be the only sensible reason why the Regent's forces seemed happy to wait for Laurent's men to make the first move instead of attacking themselves and trying to catch Laurent's army at least slightly off guard. By riding into the valley first, Laurent's and Damen's armies would be giving up the high ground. There would likely be numerous casualties before they even impacted the Regent's army's lines, let alone broke through them enough that the archers' position would lose viability. 

Even with the numbers advantage, this wasn't going to be an easy fight, and it certainly wouldn't be easy to keep the death toll on both sides as low as Laurent would prefer. Laurent should at the very least be there to command, and to keep as tight a rein as possible on Damen and therefore the Akielons in general.

But Laurent couldn't do that.

When Enguerran walked up alongside Laurent, Enguerran immediately asked, "When?"

"Shortly," Laurent said. "As soon as I'm gone, start readying the men to fight. Make sure the battle is raging by an hour from now."

Enguerran sighed. "I wish I could change your mind." He didn't try to, though, apparently knowing better by now. He instead just handed over the armour Laurent had asked for. The colours of the old armour of Ravenel's garrison, left over from before Laurent had replaced red with blue and gold, were indistinguishable from the banners currently flying among the Regent's men, and hanging from the battlements of Chastillon. 

It wasn't the first time Laurent had put on Ravenel armour for the purpose of subterfuge. It didn't fit much better now than it had then, but that wasn't really the point of it. Laurent didn't expect to have to fight in it anyway. If it was going to save Laurent's life, it would be by preventing an attack from occurring for long enough that it would no longer matter if Laurent were wearing armour at all.

"When he figures out that I'm gone, tell him I said to try not to be too much of an idiot," Laurent asked of Enguerran. He didn't have to specify who he was talking about. "He's not allowed to die for me."

"Alright," Enguerran agreed. "I'll tell him to keep himself alive for you instead."

Thoughtfully, Laurent said, "You should tell all of the men that. That they know their Prince has high expectations of them, and today what I expect is that they come out of this not only triumphant, but alive. The same goes for you, Captain."

Laurent clasped Enguerran's shoulder. It occurred to him a moment later that it wasn't unlike how he'd seen Damen greet and part from Nikandros. Enguerran in turn offered a small pleased smile and a bow.

Laurent arrived at the makeshift 'stables' where the horses were penned in a few minutes later. The servants readied Laurent's horse upon request, while a puzzled squire strapped his Prince into what was clearly someone else's armour. Laurent chose to settle a helm over his head himself, even though he usually preferred to fight without one for better visibility. With his yellow hair concealed, no starburst in sight, and the too-large armour giving off the perception that he was a broader man than he was in reality, no one who saw him as a single rider in red would ever suspect that he was actually Prince Laurent of Vere. 

Which meant that, dressed like this, Laurent would potentially have to be even more careful to avoid his own scouts, or Damen's, than the Regent's. The last thing he needed was for someone on his side to start shooting arrows at him just because he would probably appear to be either an enemy spy who'd breached their defences and gathered intel to take back to his own army, or a deserter who'd been false when he'd sworn loyalty to Laurent and was now taking his chance to return to his true master. 

Laurent had, however, grown up as the mostly-ignored second son. He knew how to avoid attention when he needed to. 

Laurent mounted his horse and set out without fanfare, not directly north to Chastillon, but west.

Looping around far enough to entirely avoid the Regent's amassed army, and moving slowly and carefully enough to avoid detection, took a long time. Laurent heard the remote roar of battle commencing at least half an hour before he expected to reach his destination. 

Laurent finally circled all the way around until he was utterly sure that he was clear, and then started riding southwards, back in the general direction of his camp. But now there were two armies between him and it, not to mention that the fortress itself stood in his way, growing ever larger in view before him. It was a good thing he wasn't intending to return to his starting point, given the obstacles. He had something much different in mind.

Though when Laurent pulled his horse up some fifty feet from the north-west cornerstones of the fortress, he saw to his great surprise that, actually, if he _had_ wanted to ride back now, he probably could have. There was currently a clear path through from where Laurent currently stood to the lines of Laurent's and Damen's armies. Though 'clear' was perhaps an overstatement, since the ground was littered with bodies.

Even at a distance, the obvious gore of it was confronting. Laurent had seen the deadly outcome of violence before in numerous permutations. He had caused it himself, in fact, from simply burying a knife between the ribs of a would-be rapist Alpha guard through to cutting a gash from a man's left hipbone to right clavicle and hearing the resulting stomach-turning noises that preceded his death by too-long seconds. Laurent was no stranger to the necessary atrocities that might arise in the course of battle and self-defence. 

What he was seeing now wasn't self-defence. This didn't even seem like the usual practice of battle. This was a personal mission, so intent as to be an unstoppable force.

Even the small group of nearby Akielon soldiers who stood as King's Guard regarded the cause of the charnel with expressions of mixed shock and awe. Had those left dead not been Veretian soldiers, and soldiers who were specifically fighting for the man who'd killed the Akielons' previous King at that, those soldiers might also have shown some horror and fear as they warily watched the slaughterer, their new King, in the aftermath. 

Damianos of Akielos now stood on the edge of the battlefield soaked in the blood of his enemies, the epitome of how Laurent had for years imagined that the monster who'd killed his brother would have looked at Marlas. Had it not been for the unmistakable presence of him, he would almost have blended into the continuous trail of red he'd left in his wake, the bodies acting as markers of the path he'd taken even in a field otherwise becoming more and more covered in death. The fighting still continued on either side of him, but he took no notice of it, and honestly had no real reason to just then. After all, the Regent's soldiers were clearly now avoiding that path like the plague, knowing it would bring fairly inevitable death for them too. He had no opposition to worry about now.

Laurent could see who Damen's last opponent had been. He was the one at the end of that path of destruction closest to Laurent, and to where Damen stood now. Laurent could see from here that the fallen man had worn distinctive armour and flown a banner, now discarded on the blood-soaked ground nearby, that demarked him as the Regent. Or it would have, if Uncle were the type of man to ride out and fight his own battles. By the looks of it, this decoy hadn't been dealt with anywhere near as perfunctorily as the others must have been, for Damen to have cut through them so quickly to get to him. The body was a ragged mess where the skin was exposed around the damaged plates of armour, and the head was entirely removed from its neck. He had not died well, it seemed. 

Laurent spared a moment to wonder whether that man, and the scores of other dead men, had done anything to deserve such a fate other than believe what they'd been told by their current ruler. These men shouldn't have been fighting against their rightful Prince and his loyal army, no, but many of them probably would have acknowledged that and joined Laurent in due time. They'd never get that chance now.

Laurent blamed the Regent for that, though, not Damen. Damen might have known long before the battle began that Laurent preferred there to be as little bloodshed as possible, but Laurent could tell the kind of rational thought that would have been required to recall that was absent in Damen now, as he stood over the human wreckage with his chest heaving. 

Laurent could vividly imagine how it would have occurred. Damen would have seen what was, to all appearances, the man who'd killed Damen's father and touched Damen's lover, and as far as Damen knew might even now be holding Laurent captive. That same rage Laurent had seen in him yesterday had of course inevitably taken over, blinding him to everything but the need to get to the Regent of Vere and make him suffer. 

Damen had said it, but Laurent hadn't really grasped until now just how intense the Alpha instinct to defend – or avenge, in this case – an Omega could be. The idea of an entire army that was willing to fight with such brutal effectiveness was both exhilarating and disturbing to Laurent in the same breath.

When Damen finally turned so that Laurent could see his face, Laurent couldn't help but think that Damen looked like a feral animal, and not just the way Laurent might have made that comparison when they'd first met and all Laurent had cared about was that he was an Akielon thug who had killed Laurent's brother. Laurent had seen rabid dogs before. Even a kind hand might be bitten, and Laurent had rarely been accused of being kind.

Even so, Laurent almost called out to Damen, knowing that he could ground him. The world and people around him might otherwise have been a blur of anger, but the sound of his name in Laurent's voice probably would have drawn Damen's focus.

But Laurent couldn't afford for Damen to be aware of him right now. 

Laurent finally turned both his gaze and his body away from Damen, reluctantly, and forced himself to start counting his paces as he walked a line away from the castle wall.

Once Laurent reached the approximate location he remembered, it was just a matter of kicking his heel into the dirt in a small grid pattern until he found the point where there was a slightly hollower sound under his foot. He had to pry the trapdoor open with his sword, since it led to an emergency escape route, and therefore wasn't designed to be opened from this side. Laurent did take note that, despite that, the door wasn't quite as difficult to move as Laurent might have expected after years of disuse. He took that as a good sign.

The tunnel was musty and unpleasant, but thankfully empty of everything but dust. Laurent took a moment, with the trapdoor still open so that he could see, to remove his heavy and unbearably noisy armour, which had served its purpose well and was now just a hindrance to his proceeding with any amount of stealth. Then Laurent, with a slightly nervous huff of air, the sound of which echoed around him, finally shut the door over and sealed himself in. 

It took several careful minutes for Laurent to cover the distance of the underground path. Without any source of light to navigate by, he had to feel along the dirt-coated walls with one hand, while the other kept his sword at the ready in case of an ambush in the dark. No such attack came, though.

After Laurent pushed the loose stones that blocked the interior entrance to the secret path out of the way, there was a nerve-racking moment where Laurent had to crawl through the resulting opening, which was too tiny for Laurent to be able to defend himself properly. His head might easily be loped off his neck if a soldier waiting on the other side timed it right. Still Laurent took that chance, moving as quickly as he could.

He emerged unscathed, and brought his sword back to readiness again. There was no one in this stretch of hallway. Yet Laurent's heart hammered. 

It was a different matter around the corner. Twenty men stood on watch, and looked fairly unsurprised to see someone emerge from what was supposed to be a dead end. That was until the first of them recognised his identity through the tunnel dirt that must have been smeared over Laurent's body and face. Whispers of 'Prince Laurent' suddenly started reverberating around the group. From that point onwards, they were definitely showing signs of shock, as if they couldn't believe it. 

So, the Regent had anticipated that this point of entrance would be tried, but not that Laurent might be the one who used it. 

The change in the soldiers' body language suggested that they'd probably had orders to kill anyone who emerged from the 'secret' pathway, but that they didn't believe that automatically extended to the Crown Prince of Vere. Laurent was lucky that these weren't members of the Regent's Guard, who would currently be either with Uncle or out commanding his army. These, it seemed, were the men who'd been stationed at Chastillon even before Uncle arrived. Unlike many of the Regent's Guard, they had no particular vendetta against Laurent. They wouldn't hurt him without direct orders to do so.

Laurent let his sword fall to the ground in surrender as soon as they surrounded him, not wanting to prompt any of them into violence unnecessarily when it was clear that wasn't their current intention. He let them grab him by the arms. Their hold was fairly weak, but Laurent didn't fight it. These weren't his enemies. He was sure he'd see his real enemy soon enough.

Laurent thought for a tense moment that they were about to steer him straight towards the audience chamber, where Uncle would hold some brief but supposedly 'fair' mockery of a trial as soon as possible. Though Uncle would probably have to summon the Council and the courtiers as witnesses, which would take time. 

But the guards escorting Laurent took a left turn instead, which Laurent was fairly certain led down to the holding cells of Chastillon. Laurent sighed, relieved. Of all the ways this could have gone wrong, that wasn't precisely the worst, but it still wouldn't have been ideal.

The clang of the cell door as it shut behind Laurent had a ring of finality about it. Laurent chose to ignore that in favour of watching, speculatively, as the guards held a brief discussion and then several of them left, presumably going to advise the Regent that, against all odds, his recalcitrant nephew was currently trussed up for him in the cells of Chastillon.

Still, even though the guards surely wasted no time in seeking out the Regent, it still took what felt like it must have been over an hour for Uncle to come before Laurent. 

Perhaps Uncle had been dealing with the strange turn of events with the battle outside, where Enguerran would by now have inexplicably withdrawn Laurent's forces despite the fact that they weren't losing the battle, and would presumably have convinced Damen to go along with it by telling him that continuing the fight would put Laurent at risk. Although that would require that Damen had managed by now to recover some degree of his level-headedness, such as it was.

Alternatively, and perhaps more likely given that the Regent was the kind to delegate the task of directly running the battle tactics, the delay was probably because Uncle just wanted to leave Laurent to sweat.

"Well, well, Laurent, this is a welcome surprise," Uncle said with a sly quirk of his lips.

"Is it? And yet you clearly predicted that I was going to try to infiltrate the castle through that passage," Laurent said.

Uncle waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, of course, but I never dared to dream you'd be stupid enough to risk doing it _yourself_. I thought you'd send a few of your expendable Alpha soldiers, whom I'm sure would be happy to do something so foolish just to impress their Omega communal fucktoy."

Laurent narrowed his eyes, but didn't bother protesting the description.

"And now you've made this so simple for me that it's almost a disappointment," Uncle said regretfully. "I thought you'd put up at least a bit of a fight."

"You may not have noticed from your comfortable position atop my throne, but there was quite a battle going on outside last I looked."

Uncle sneered. "That's no more than window dressing, and you know it, or you wouldn't have organised for your people to fall back once you were finished using them as a distraction."

"Well some of us would prefer to limit the number of soldiers who die out there on that field," Laurent said. "It's a pity you wouldn't just meet me out there yourself. We could have spared a lot of Veretian lives that way." 

"Are you sure you'd have wanted that? Single combat didn't exactly work out for your brother, and he was a thousand times the fighter you could ever be," Uncle pointed out. "Though perhaps you've forgotten all about that, since you've now brought your brother's killer here with you to kill your own countrymen."

"Are you really going to try to pretend you care about those deaths?" Laurent asked. 

"Certainly not," scoffed Uncle. "I think we're past such pointless deceptions now, with you utterly at my mercy. I'm already King in all but name, and in a day or so even that last formality will be resolved. What do I care about a few thousand necessary losses?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Laurent saw one of the guards subtly react to that admission. Good. 

"If we're being that honest, why bother even taking me before the Council?" Laurent asked. "As you say, I'm finally at your mercy."

"Finally? You've been at my mercy for years," Uncle said, and Laurent barely contained his reaction to that too-truthful assertion. "I've waited that long. I can wait a few more hours until the Council convenes and you're properly executed for treason. Obviously the transition from Regent to King will be much smoother if I don't have to worry about accusations that I've murdered you unjustly."

"And you do so hate getting your own hands dirty, anyway," Laurent said, thinking of his father's death.

"Precisely," Uncle acknowledged.

Laurent said, "The Council must be even more firmly in your pockets than I thought if you believe it'll be a simple matter to convince them that their Crown Prince deserves death. As far as I'm aware, the only accusation is that I've teamed up with Damianos of Akielos. I freely admit it. There wouldn't be much point in denying it, after all, when he's currently on your doorstep with his army. But where's the treason in that? Vere is allied with Akielos, isn't it?" Laurent said artfully. "If I recall, you were the one who surrendered to their King on bent knee instead of pursuing justice for your fallen brother and nephew. Everything was forgiven way back then, it would seem. I daresay you were also the one who helped to put Akielos's new King into power. I even hear the new Akielon King has been sending you gifts to consolidate our countries' friendship. And look, I followed your lead and strengthened our alliance even further by meeting with the new King's brother and diffusing tensions at the border that would otherwise have led to Veretian casualties. Aren't you proud of me, Uncle?"

Uncle's expression was even uglier than usual, though his tone was disturbingly melodic as he said: "It's a shame that you grew up so contemptuous when you were such a lovely, open youth."

Laurent contained a shudder. "Oh, I'd say you think it's a shame I grew up at all, in more ways than one," Laurent said.

"You won't be growing any older from now on, at least," Uncle promised him. "The Council will gather in the afternoon. In the meantime, perhaps you should enjoy your last few hours of drawing breath."

"Are you going to help me 'enjoy' them?" Laurent asked, sounding as if he didn't care either way. "Not personally, of course. I'm far too old for you now, thankfully."

There was another visible jerk of motion from over Uncle's shoulder as those words reached their mark. 

Laurent hated for anyone to suspect anything about his past, of course, but that was rather the point. Uncle knew Laurent meant for it to remain eternally a secret. He wouldn't expect Laurent to be prepared to use that information if he had to. He hoped it wasn't necessary to go quite that far, though.

Uncle chuckled darkly. "While that's an entertaining thought, do you really think I'm going to leave you with some ridiculous Alphas who you can use your charms to manipulate into letting you go? You should know by now that I'm not a fool, nephew. I know all of your tricks."

Do you though, Laurent thought, as Uncle departed, leaving five guards to watch over Laurent, all of whom were Betas. 

And all of whom had just overheard the kind of indiscreet conversation that Uncle seemed to lapse into with Laurent when he was furious or immensely overconfident, or both.

Laurent barely stifled a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I more or less completely rewrote this chapter three times, with completely different sequences of events leading up to Laurent entering Chastillon. I'm still not sure I'm entirely happy with it. But I'm utterly exhausted by a combination of work, lack of proper sleep, and packing up and preparing to travel in less than a week. So hopefully it worked alright for you in its current form.


	34. Chapter 34

Laurent expected that, when the time came, his guards would be summoned to bring him before the Regent and the Council, who would think to stand as his judges. He was prepared for that now. Eager for it, really.

Uncle, though, couldn't apparently settle for just defeating Laurent in public. It shouldn't have been surprising. His more private victories over Laurent had always been his favourites, from what Laurent could tell. And Laurent imagined that there were a lot of things Uncle would like to say to his nephew – things he wanted to rub Laurent's face in – without an audience.

Well, Laurent thought, glancing at the guards as Uncle swept in, not _entirely_ without an audience. But unlike Laurent, Uncle was so used to guards and soldiers just doing his bidding without question that he wouldn't even really acknowledge that these men might have thoughts of their own, and react to his words in unexpected ways. They were beneath his notice, the Regent would think.

"You really didn't need to come for me yourself, Uncle. I know how you hate to have to do these menial tasks yourself," Laurent said in greeting, not even bothering to rise from where he was sprawled casually on the ground, taking advantage of the pillow that one of the guards had fetched him. Uncle narrowed his eyes at Laurent having even that small amount of comfort.

"I'm not here for that," Uncle said.

Laurent already knew what he was really here for, of course. "Well if you're just here for a chat, you needn't have bothered yourself with that, either. If this is going to be my last hour or so of existence, I'd happily spend it in your absence."

"And you think I care for your happiness, do you?" Uncle asked.

Laurent laughed humourlessly. "I haven't been foolish enough to think that since I was thirteen and you proved that what I wanted didn't matter a whit to you."

"Actually, I gave you exactly what you wanted when you were thirteen," Uncle said. "You begged for it, in fact. Or have you allowed yourself to forget that in the years' worth of unwarranted bitterness you've allowed to fester in yourself since then? I certainly haven't. It's a treasured memory."

Laurent refused to look at any face but Uncle's, partly because looking away now would be taken as a sign of weakness, but even more so because he'd rather not see the guards' expressions. Even without looking, Laurent could tell that there was something about the background silence that was palpably tense in a way it hadn't been minutes ago.

For his part, Laurent's teeth were clenched so tightly together that he was surprised something didn't break under the pressure. He imagined his face was white, bloodless. 

Laurent understood now, better than he ever had, exactly what he was willing to give up to beat Uncle. He was finally prepared to use Uncle's proclivities, and even specifically his past with Laurent, against him if he absolutely had to. Damen had pointed out that Uncle would be destroyed if that was common knowledge, and the thought had been bouncing around in Laurent's mind almost endlessly in his waking hours since that conversation, despite how Laurent had immediately insisted that letting people know wasn't an option. 

Laurent had always expected that he'd lose whatever respect he'd accrued if people understood just how weak he'd been at one time. But that admittedly wasn't what had happened so far. Damen hadn't believed it made him lesser, for one. And Laurent thought that he and Nicaise probably weren't the only ones who at least suspected. Paschal would have to have been an idiot to have missed it when he'd worked as the Regent's physician rather than Laurent's. Enguerran had overheard enough of Laurent's conversation with Guion's son that he was probably able to put two and two together. Any number of Laurent's original Prince's Guard from Arles might have seen enough of the charged undercurrent of Laurent's clashes with his uncle to wonder. And who knew if Uncle had been careless enough to let the information slip to someone other than Nicaise. He certainly wasn't putting much effort into hiding it from those present now.

None of those people had abandoned Laurent. It wasn't comfortable, or preferable, but perhaps it could at least be bearable if people knew. 

Still, Laurent wished Uncle would just shut up or change topics. After all, these soldiers who were listening to Uncle's words now didn't actually _need_ to know for Laurent's plan to move forward. And Laurent still did hate the idea of even partially dropping that nearly impenetrable shield he'd been erecting around himself for years.

Uncle, however, had never been one to let something that clearly bothered Laurent pass by without prodding at it until Laurent was clearly at his breaking point.

"Did you get on your knees and beg for your brother's killer, too?" Uncle asked.

"He got on his knees for me, actually," Laurent asserted calmly, though in truth Laurent had willingly knelt in front of Damen too, just a few mornings ago.

"I actually don't doubt it," Uncle said. "Alphas pretend that they're stronger than Betas, but they're useless the minute they get a passing sniff of some little Omega upstart like you."

Laurent blinked, legitimately surprised, so much so that without really thinking he said, "I thought you wanted to be an Alpha yourself." Given the things Uncle had whispered into Laurent's ear in his most vulnerable moments, there had never seemed to be any real question about that, until now.

"I can't imagine anything worse," Uncle said disdainfully, and the words had the ring of truth to them, despite everything that had passed between the two of them to suggest otherwise. "Even being an Omega myself would be better than being so easily swayed by one. Imagine a world where _you_ had the ability to influence me like that."

Laurent found himself, for once, speechless. Even though Laurent himself had long since realised that being an Alpha wouldn't have suited him personally, and Damen had finally convinced him that there were some benefits of being an Omega to which an Alpha couldn't lay claim, Laurent had still never thought that someone like _Uncle_ , of all people, would acknowledge that being an Omega would be in any way preferable.

"You're surprised," Uncle identified smugly. "Do you think I didn't immediately realise how it might turn in your favour, given the chance? There you were, your scent freshly shifted but still years from presenting the rest of the way, and already even my own otherwise most steadfast men were starting to look at you like they would be salivating over you from the moment you went into your first heat. I'm no fool. Alphas outnumber the rest of us, and they hold almost every position of power and strength apart from the throne, and even that's only a recent exception. Given that, it would have been disastrous if you ever thought to take advantage of the way they'd undoubtedly end up falling over each other to do your bidding once you fully presented." 

Laurent felt sick. "So you tried to make sure I'd see Alphas as something to be derided and feared by turns, so that I'd never be willing to let any of them close to me. Congratulations. You succeeded at that for years."

"Not well enough, apparently."

"No," Laurent acknowledged. "Perhaps if you had been born an Alpha yourself, even if you wouldn't have preferred it, you could have truly wrecked me then. Instead, you were just a Beta playing pretend. You never quite managed to entirely counteract the impression that Auguste, as a real Alpha, managed to impart about my situation before he was taken from me. Even more unluckily for you, I met another Alpha who reminded me of what Auguste told me, and taught me so much more about myself besides."

Uncle said, "Oh Laurent, you're going to make this so easy on me if you insist on lauding your brother's murderer. Most of the people in the country speak of the prince-killer in no more than hushed whispers, as if doing otherwise will conjure him from the shadows. No one will accept that he's really some paragon of virtue, and that you've not committed treason just by willingly breathing the same air as him." 

"And yet _I_ accepted it, eventually, when I had the most reason of anyone not to," Laurent countered. "And I'm hardly the only Veretian who's figured out the truth of it. It turns out the real monster wasn't the man in my nightmares after Marlas, but the one I woke up to, who pretended to comfort me in the dark. I admit that I almost didn't get the chance to figure that out, though. Setting me against him was so close to being a successful move. If I'd had my way, it would have ended exactly as you hoped. It seems neither of us could quite predict Damianos of Akielos, though."

"And now you think to hand him Vere just because you finally found an Alpha you wanted to spread for," Uncle pointed out. "Really, nephew, whatever made you think that someone as weak as you could ever be fit to rule?"

"Oh, I've no interest in handing my country over to _anyone_. Not him, and certainly not you," Laurent said. There was the sound of a commotion up the hall. "In fact, I believe it's Damianos who will shortly be helping to hand Vere to _me_ , even as we speak."

An additional guard burst into the prison area. "Your Majesty," he addressed the Regent, as if that title should really belong to him even with Laurent right there in the room. "There's been a breach."

"How many?" the Regent asked impatiently.

The guard hesitated. "A lot, Your Majesty. The eastern halls are teeming with them."

"Oh, did I forget to mention that when you were talking about how easily you captured me? As it turns out, there's more than one secret way into Chastillon," Laurent informed his uncle casually. "I took the one that serves as the primary emergency escape route out of the castle, which anyone who oversaw Chastillon's defences would surely know of. I'm glad that you were actually told of it. There was a moment after I emerged from the tunnel where I didn't think you'd guarded it after all. It would have been so much more difficult to do this if I'd had to go about purposely making my presence known; it would have been too obvious that I wanted to be captured. I can't imagine you wouldn’t have been suspicious then."

Uncle narrowed his eyes. "You're lying to make yourself look more competent and in control than you are. There's no way you _chose_ to put yourself under my power now."

"Mmm, even after everything. It's not very much like me, is it?" Laurent said. "It's something I've learned far more recently: making myself more vulnerable can sometimes actually strengthen my position. You treat all of this as a chess game. Well, I believe you've heard of a gambit?"

"That would require that there was some benefit to be gained from you sacrificing yourself."

"Unfortunately," Laurent said, "I didn't have anyone loyal to me inside Chastillon. Obviously, I needed to remedy that. How else was I meant to do it other than come inside and persuade people?"

Uncle sneered. "Apart from the Council, who I think you know are loyal to _me_ , no one even knows that you're here."

"Don't they? That's unfortunate." Laurent glanced over at men who'd been guarding him, who even now were placing their hands on their sword hilts in a mixture of readiness and anger. "He thinks you're 'no one'. But overlooking you is his mistake." He looked back to Uncle. "Your problem as a chess master is that you think that the pawns are barely worthy of your notice. Well those pawns are about to get the white king out of check and clear a path for the other pieces to make their own moves."

"Leave us," the Regent ordered the guards with every ounce of regal influence he possessed in his voice. No one moved, not even the guard who'd come to warn Uncle of the threat, who looked too stunned to think about leaving under his own power just then. Uncle's reaction to the insurrection wasn't overt, but Laurent did see him swallow heavily.

"Did you really think that I only had the ability to convince Alphas?" Laurent asked derisively. "I have more on my side than a scent and a pretty face, starting with the truth. One of the first things you told me after my father and brother died was that I needed to learn how best to use my mouth. Don't worry, Uncle: I have. Just not the way you meant at the time."

The Regent couldn't miss how the numbers had turned against him in an instant. He hadn't had to fight a real battle for years. Even in Marlas Uncle had remained well behind the lines, just as the King had until his brother had convinced him to do otherwise, while Auguste did the real fighting and leading.

But he'd had decades of practicing how to slip his way out of what might be otherwise detrimental situations. Before the guards could secure him, he managed to find a gap between them and make it out the door. For a middle-aged man, he moved swiftly.

"No," Laurent said as the guards who were now under Laurent's command moved to follow. "You won't catch him. Open the cell door and get me out of here. _I'll_ find him. I know exactly where he's going. It's where I intend to go as well. I think it's time my Uncle gets the trial he's been crowing for."

The guard who had come to warn Uncle shrank back against the stone wall, as if he could appear unobtrusive enough to be forgotten. As Laurent swept out of the now-unlocked cell, he looked directly at that guard. "The tide is turning. My uncle won't have control of Chastillon for much longer. If you want to have any chance of surviving the day, you can either lock yourself in the cell that I just vacated and become a prisoner of war, or you can make yourself useful and join your fellow guardsmen here. But if you do that with the intention of trying to put a knife in my back, be aware that I have knives of my own, and talking with my uncle always leaves me with the strong urge to gut something."

The guard looked to the cell, then to Laurent. For a moment, he looked as though he thought imprisonment might actually be the better option. But in the end, he bowed his head to his Prince, both as obeisance and an undertaking.

"Good choice," Laurent said. "Don't do anything that will make either of us regret it."

To say the hallways outside the prison section of Chastillon's lower levels were clear wouldn't be entirely accurate. There were men of the Regent's Guard still in the way, to a point, but they were sprawled on the stone floor, their bodies now nothing but momentary hurdles to overcome. It was somewhat reminiscent of the path Damen had cut through Uncle's forces outside the castle, though these deaths definitely looked as though they'd been less vicious than what Laurent had seen then.

And at either end of the hallway, there were small bands of soldiers standing ready to head off any comers. The men of Chastillon had prevented the Regent's Guard from reaching him. Well, all but one.

"Hey Lazar," one of Laurent's newly-acquired guards shouted. One of the men standing guard in the direction Laurent was now heading turned around in response. "You missed one!"

The man, Lazar apparently, grinned. "That little runt?" he said, indicating the guard who was now tentatively trailing their group. "I knew he'd jump ship like a rat as soon as he saw what was happening. The message I got from you lot said the Prince wanted there to be no unnecessary death. I let the Regent pass by me going in the other direction too, if you want to taunt me for that while you're at it. But I didn't figure I was supposed to just go ahead and kill _him_."

"No," Laurent said, "that would have been a distinctly terrible move. And you're right that I prefer for people to be convinced instead of killed wherever possible."

Lazar's gaze slid to Laurent for the first time, and he blinked. "Well damn. I thought it must have been all exaggerations. But no wonder there's a whole army of Alphas willing to lay down for you, if this is what you look like even coated in an inch-thick layer of dirt. This'll be well worth the pay cut."

When it came to holing up at Chastillon, the problem which Uncle didn't seem to have registered as significant was that the standing force already there had mostly, from what Laurent had gleaned via court gossip over the years, been cast out of Arles against their will and reduced to a more or less mercenary position. Perhaps Uncle had thought them permanently bought off from the money he'd occasionally tossed their way, as a negligent master threw scraps to his dogs only when he bothered to think of them at all. Or maybe Uncle had just presumed that they were few enough in number that they had no real other choice but to fall in line when the Regent's Guard took over control and the regional armies gathered. 

None of the other soldiers currently inside the fortress knew Chastillon, and how to counter the defences that would have been put into place, as well as those men that had spent years there. And none of the others had, in the end, less loyalty and regard for their Regent than those that had been basically exiled here so the Regent could hide them from the view of the court at Arles.

All Laurent had needed was some time alone, uninterrupted, to persuade some of them, who in turn were willing enough to talk to the others. Uncle had graciously provided him with that opportunity by placing him in the guarded cells.

It could have so easily gone wrong. Laurent hadn't been at all sure that it would be this easy. But then again, he supposed that Uncle had never anticipated that people would actually be willing to believe in Laurent, and follow him. Neither had Laurent himself, until recently. But after everything, Laurent had found that he'd been willing to take the chance that they, like Laurent's soldiers, would believe him when he spoke the truth with conviction. 

And Laurent was willing to chance that the Council and the courtiers might now be willing to do the same, despite everything. After all, Laurent wasn't the same youth who'd let Uncle run roughshod over him in the Council's presence. He understood his own strengths far better now.

When Laurent made it into the audience hall where the Council would be gathered, Laurent took a moment to notice how it looked nothing like Laurent remembered from the days of his father's reign. Uncle had remade this room into his own private little fiefdom, from the banners of the Regency hanging from every available surface, to the almost hilariously ostentatious throne he'd had dragged into place. 

Uncle was sitting atop that throne now, looking to all appearances as if he'd been perched there all along, rather than fleeing through the halls just minutes ago. The only giveaway that he'd been running for his life was the slight redness to his face. In fact, he looked much as he did when he'd consumed a little too much drink at the festivities in Arles; indolent and flushed, and unconcerned by the dangers of being less guarded than usual. He was clearly not as alarmed as he should have been after a relatively close call, especially given that Laurent's army was still coming for him, with some of them already inside the walls.

Good. His continued overconfidence would benefit Laurent.

"Take him into custody," the Regent ordered his soldiers. There were more of them in the vast room than Laurent had expected, considering that there must have been a large number of Uncle's men out there fighting in the halls in order for them to still be successfully waylaying Laurent's army. Clearly Uncle had kept the lion's share of soldiers inside Chastillon rather than sending them outside. It was clear that his own safety was a far greater priority to Uncle than the integrity of this castle.

Well, Laurent thought, what was one more fallen fortress when Uncle had been losing them all over the place, starting six years ago, never mind that prior to Marlas not a single Veretian fortress had been breached in two centuries or more.

Uncle clearly had little regard for Vere. Laurent would likely have sought to overthrow his rule for that alone, even without a hundred other more pressing reasons to want him dead. He would do whatever it took to stop him.

Laurent didn't fight against it when the soldiers grabbed him, not even when they flung him somewhat roughly to his knees before his uncle's throne, though everything in Laurent ached to at least try to throw them off and stand proudly on his feet instead.

"I don't think this is the best time for this," Councillor Jeurre protested. "If what you say is true, the castle will soon be overrun. We should leave, not remain here making ourselves an easy target."

"The fact that the castle is swarming with my nephew's followers is exactly why this needs to be dealt with now, and quickly," the Regent announced. "If he is sentenced and executed before they arrive here, his band of insurgents will have no choice but to concede the validity of my rule and help defend us against the Akielon hoards."

The Councillors looked uncertain, and they were right to, because most of Laurent's men would sooner die fighting than concede to that. 

But then, as long as he managed to have Laurent executed, Uncle probably didn't mind if everyone in Chastillon other than himself was slaughtered. Five dead Councillors and a good portion of the court wiped out would be a fine rallying point when he escaped. Laurent wasn't sure where else he could even go at that point, but Uncle did always have a plan.

So, ignoring the threat and the others' trepidation, the Regent announced imperiously, "We'll begin the trial now."

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Laurent agreed, to the Council's and the gathered spectators' surprise. "It sounds as if our time is limited, after all."

"Then are you going to make it quick and confess to your crimes?" Uncle asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Laurent said, knowing he didn't sound at all apologetic. "Were you under the impression that this would be a trial for _me_?" He let that sink in among the listeners for a moment, hearing an uptick in the volume of their murmurings, before he announced, "As Crown Prince of Vere and Acquitart, I hereby charge the current Regent of Vere with regicide and treason."

All around the room the word 'regicide' was echoing in tones of utter confusion, for how could the Regent, who himself might as well have been King of Vere now, have murdered a King? After all, the only actual King in the last thirty years, the Regent's own brother, had died tragically in battle at the hands of the faithless Akielons.

Councillor Herode, just as shocked as the rest, said, "Those are… very serious charges."

"I agree," Laurent said. "Even more serious than those levelled at me, in fact. And I'm sure that by addressing them, you'll find that the reality of the accusations against me will be cleared up as well."

"This is a desperate attempt to divert the blame for his own crimes, just as I told you all he would do," Uncle claimed. He sounded unconcerned, but there was something in his eyes that belied that. If anything, to Laurent it seemed that he was internally weighing up the odds that Laurent would have anything to back those claims up. The charge of regicide was, after all, highly specific, and surely must have been just as unexpected to the Regent as to the people. Uncle must be wondering now what Laurent knew.

"Do I look desperate?" Laurent asked calmly. "This isn't some last-ditch effort. This is justice, six years overdue."

"Justice requires proof," Councillor Audin, who was perhaps too much swayed by Uncle's frequent favours, chastised Laurent. "The King assures us that there is proof of his charge against you, and that he's ready to lay it out."

"'The King'," Laurent repeated. "Yes, everyone does keep calling him that. Have I already been found guilty, and the Regency ended as a result? I'd hate to think my trial would be nothing more than a farce," he added wryly.

"Of course not," Councillor Chelaut said reasonably. "He's simply the acting as King until we resolve this issue."

"An 'acting king' is a Regent, nothing more," Laurent said. "Don't dishonour the true Kings of my line by suggesting otherwise."

"Well there's no point wasting time debating what might only be a temporary state of affairs," Councillor Audin said, though he now sounded ever so slightly flustered after being called out. "Nor do I think entertaining your claim is the best use of our limited time either. There are witnesses standing ready to testify against you. I don't believe that you could say the same about your accusations against the Ki–" He hesitated before correcting himself: "The Regent."

Uncle's face at having one of the Councillors who was most in his pocket deny him his preferred title was priceless.

"Well," said Laurent, "there are always the hundreds of soldiers who are likely to burst in here any minute. They could act as witnesses to the fact that the Regent sent multiple armies to kill me without even notifying me of the charges against me, let alone giving me any kind of trial prior to the attempts on my life. But I'm sure Uncle would just manage to make it sound as if I'm the one responsible for the men whose actions put those attacks into motion, like I set out to get _myself_ killed, just as he managed to evade any suggestions of responsibility when his man attacked me during my first heat."

"Come now, Laurent, you know you were prancing around Arles spreading your pheromones all over the place," Uncle pointed out. "My guard could hardly help his reaction, and yet you readily killed him for it."

"Are you suggesting I should have allowed myself to be raped instead?" Laurent asked darkly. There was uncomfortable shifting from more than one of the Councillors, not to mention numerous courtiers. The Alphas in particular were grumbling, though Laurent couldn't be sure if that was on his behalf or Uncle's. He'd grown used to his Alpha soldiers, but those Alpha courtiers at Arles were quite a different species, from what Laurent could tell.

"Of course not," Uncle said smoothly. "I simply meant that it was an unfortunate incident precipitated by your refusal to leave Arles, despite my advice that going to a more secure location for the duration was the only safe option for you. No one is directly to blame. Certainly not me."

"Certainly not," Laurent mocked. "You're right, I'm sure I'll never actually be able to prove otherwise. You're very good at covering your tracks. Anything underhanded is several times removed from you, so that no one can easily trace it, and there's always deniability even if they think to try. You wouldn't, for example, ever just kill a man yourself. Nothing so sordid. I imagine that instead you'd send one of your men to broker a deal with an archer, who could do it from a distance and never have it traced back to him. And then you'd send another man to permanently rid you of the problem posed by that archer knowing too much once the deed was done. And it would all work out perfectly, I'm sure, as long as the archer didn't do something incredibly aggravating like write a letter about what he'd done in a fit of remorse. Stop me if this is sounding at all familiar to you." 

"Of course I know nothing of such a wild story," Uncle said haughtily. "Unlike you, I didn't spend all my childhood reading fairy-tales and otherwise being a useless drain on the Crown. And the Council didn't ask whether you had a tale to weave. They asked for evidence. Clearly you have none."

"Perhaps I wouldn't have," Laurent admitted, "if the letter in question hadn't been stolen not once, but twice. And it wasn't the only thing misplaced. You might recall that your favourite pet disappeared from Arles a short time ago. What a coincidence."

"That little thieving slut," Uncle breathed. 

"That's quite a hypocritical moniker for you to use, Uncle," Laurent chided. "Should Nicaise really be considered a slut for allowing himself to be bedded by multiple men when the only reason he did so was because you ordered a boy too young for his voice to even have broken yet to bend over for anyone who could benefit you?" Laurent shot a pointed look at Councillor Audin, who was even more pointedly avoiding Laurent's gaze. "And you wonder why he might have wanted to be free of you, and why he grabbed an insurance policy on his way out. It's a pity for you that the man he stole it from obviously didn't think that confessing to you the loss of such a valuable bargaining chip was a good idea. Then you might have known better than to imprison me in the cells alone with men who weren't undyingly loyal enough to you to make them deaf to the truth, let alone bringing me here before the Council with the letter in my pocket."

Laurent brandished the yellowed papers. Councillor Herode, who would under other circumstances have had a servant retrieve any supposed evidence from the accused, stepped down and came to Laurent's side himself. Laurent pressed the letter into his shaking hand, but Councillor Herode didn't unfold it. His expression as he looked to Laurent said that he didn't need to. It was enough that his Prince had been the one to make the claim, and that the Regent had gone quiet at the sight of the letter.

Councillor Herode sank slowly, creakily, to his knees, putting him even with Laurent, who hadn't been allowed to rise all this time.

"I've let your father down, for I owed the son of my King and friend better," Councillor Herode said to Laurent, loud enough that everyone could hear him. "And the Council as a whole has let _you_ down, for years now. Will you let us at least begin to try to make it up to you now, my King?"

The hands that were holding Laurent in place fell away just as the sound of muttering through the hall rose at that pronouncement of Laurent's status. Finally free to move, Laurent rose to his feet, while Councillor Herode remained kneeling before him, his head bowed. He wasn't the only one who went to his knees then.

Councillor Herode was the first person who'd openly referred to Laurent as his King since Jord had done so. But when Laurent looked around now, it was clear that he wouldn't be the last. After years of fighting endlessly for respect and acknowledgement, and even then often failing to achieve those things, gaining them in a matter of moments was foreign to Laurent. All he could do was nod sharply to Councillor Herode's request.

The idea that the people around them might believe and accept Laurent must have seemed foreign to Uncle as well. Uncle looked for a long moment like he'd continue to try to protest. But most of the eyes in the room had turned unfriendly to him, including all the Councillors except the most recently-appointed one, who'd replaced Guion. And even those men and women who weren't looking at the Regent as if he were something foul or at Laurent in a completely new light still appeared at the least uncertain what to do. Even the Regent's most loyal guards weren't stepping forward to defend him, glancing around them and clearly seeing the futility of that.

"This is ridiculous," the Regent said. 

"It is ridiculous that you've been allowed to go unpunished for your actions for so long," Councillor Chelaut said.

Had this been the first time today that Uncle had lost the upper hand and had men he'd thought loyal to him turn against him suddenly and unexpectedly, he might have ignored all the signs and persisted on the path he'd set out for himself. He might have called for the arrest of everyone who now showed Laurent support, not having enough awareness of his situation to realise that that included most of the people present. The Regent would certainly have still tried to talk his way out of this, had Laurent's own army not been already inside Chastillon, making their slow way through the various forms of resistance that Laurent's inside men hadn't been able to take care of in advance. Without the certainty that the men inside this hall would protect him whole-heartedly when Laurent's reinforcements arrived, the Regent had only one real option.

Just as he'd done earlier when the guards' shifted allegiance became obvious, the Regent ran. It was so unexpected to everyone but Laurent that no one even moved to stop him.

"Fetch me a sword," Laurent ordered to the room at large. A soldier instantly offered Laurent his own, almost thoughtlessly, a subject responding to his King's authoritative command.

"Your Highness," said a man that Laurent recognised as a long-standing member of the Regent's Guard, who'd never once before addressed Laurent by his title, but who now was looking at him with new respect. "We'll find him, and bring him back here so that the Council can pass judgement and justice can be served. There's nowhere he can go." 

"Yes, there is," Laurent contradicted him. "Chastillon is designed as a fortress, not a prison. And my uncle is already well aware of at least one escape route."

Laurent handed Councillor Herode his seal and an explanatory letter that he'd written yesterday, to be produced if Laurent's men should break through to this hall before Laurent himself returned and could call for a cessation to the fighting in person. Half the soldiers in the room moved to follow Laurent until he gave them different orders. Some of them were to remain to protect the Council and courtiers in case the Regent or anyone still loyal to him returned. The rest were to go out into the hallways and to tell their peers to stop fighting, and to let Laurent's men through, for Chastillon, and Vere at large, now belonged to the Crown Prince.

That meant that, with great reluctance from almost everyone involved except Laurent himself, Laurent was allowed to make his way unaccompanied.

The passage Laurent had used to break into Chastillon wasn't all that far from the holding cell Laurent had been stored in for the better part of the day, so it was really just a matter of retracing his steps.

He didn't have far to go, however, before the sight in front of him brought Laurent up short. 

The quiet sound Uncle was emitting was made louder by the noise's reverberations against the stone walls and floor of the hallway. It was, Laurent had to admit, music to his ears. At first sight Uncle was being held still merely by the firm grip around his neck, with a strong thumb digging threateningly into his windpipe. But then Laurent saw the drips of red falling to the floor just beside Uncle's shoes, and Laurent realised that the sword at his side wasn't just pressed to him as a warning, but was already pressed well _into_ him, skewering him in place. 

With the hand that wasn't around Uncle's neck, Damen was currently twisting that sword, viciously, the way Laurent would surely have done. 

But not the way Damen would do, under any other circumstances. It was only the knowledge that this man had touched Laurent that was spurring Damen's actions on. Laurent didn't want to be responsible for Damen tossing aside his usually unassailable honour, even temporarily.

"Damen," Laurent called out. "Stop."

" _Laurent_ ," Damen exhaled in a rush of relief as their eyes met. Upon seeing Laurent alive and well, Damen looked like he might have either crumpled to the ground or bodily launched himself at Laurent, if only he weren't currently pinning the Regent against the wall.

"Yes, yes, we can deal with the tearful reunion and the recriminations about the stupidity of each other's recent actions later. For now, you have something of mine." Laurent looked meaningfully at Uncle.

"Yours? This scum shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence as you," Damen claimed with gritted teeth. "And he won't have to be, ever again, once I kill him."

"He's unarmed," Laurent reminded him. "Defenceless."

"So were you," Damen said. The words sounded as though they almost caught in Damen's throat.

"But I'm not anymore," Laurent reminded him. "So hand him over to me so that I can prove that to him. I intend to be the one to kill him. Don't you think I've earned that?"

Damen looked reluctant, but eventually he withdrew his sword, forcing a grunt from Uncle. Damen stepped back slightly, though not so much that he wouldn't be able to act if Uncle, even injured as he now was, tried to make another break for it.

Instead, Uncle just slumped against the wall, panting in fresh pain at having the sword pulled free with no sign of gentleness.

"You shouldn't have run. I had thought to have you executed impersonally, you know," Laurent said. "Some soldier would have lopped your head off in the space of a single breath. You probably wouldn't have even felt a thing. It would have been far more lenient than you deserve, but I'd have done it all the same."

"Don't pretend at some ridiculous nobility, as if you're above superfluous violence," Uncle said spitefully. "We both know better than that, don't we?"

"Oh, I'm not suggesting any such thing," Laurent countered. "That version of events wouldn't have been for your benefit, or mine. I just expected that this would be a confrontation in front of the people of my kingdom, and the Council, so that I'd have other no choice. Best not let them see what I'd really like to do to you, while I'm still trying to convince them that I'm being eminently reasonable. But of course you wouldn't give in quite that easily. So now there's no Council watching. No witnesses. Well, to be fair, one witness, but he _really_ wants you to suffer, so I doubt he's going to intercede on your behalf."

Damen demonstratively sheathed his sword after wiping Uncle's blood off against the already blood-stained hem of his chiton. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, apparently settling in to watch without intervening. Laurent, though, knew that Damen's sword could be at the ready again in the blink of an eye, and there was still something coiled and ready about the set of Damen's muscles. If intervention were needed after all, Damen's reaction would be fairly instantaneous.

Laurent didn't think it would come to that. Uncle wasn't about to get the upper hand against him this time. And no one was coming to help him.

Laurent flicked the sharp tip of his sword across Uncle's chest, barely deeper than a papercut, but it elicited a hiss and drew a line of blood.

"I'm unarmed," Uncle reminded Laurent. "Your brother would never have stood for this."

"My brother," Laurent said menacingly, "would have put his morals aside for just long enough to literally tear you to pieces if he'd known what you did to me."

Uncle finally made a move to run, but Laurent had always been quicker than most people. He took a leaf out of Damen's book and stopped Uncle in his tracks by shoving his sword through Uncle's shoulder with all his weight behind it, hard enough that the tip protruded out the other side above Uncle's shoulder blade. He was unable to free himself without being stopped by the excruciating pain of the sword shifting inside him. And yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from trying to physically flinch away from the source of the agony, even though the slightest movement only made it worse.

"What was it you said to me the first time?" Laurent asked too-casually. "'If you don't squirm like a weakling, it won't hurt as much'." Laurent heard Damen's growl in response to those words, but thankfully Damen was this time able to limit his reaction to just that. "Guess what, Uncle? It still did. But I'm sure this hurts a lot more."

Laurent twisted the sword before he yanked it out, only to open another hole in the bicep of Uncle's other arm the moment he caught the glimmer of a knife. It prompted a scream this time as the sword edge audibly scraped bone, the accumulated pain by now too great for Uncle to stifle the outcry. The knife fell from Uncle's now-limp grasp. Laurent kicked it away.

"So much for being weaponless and therefore supposedly deserving of my mercy," Laurent said. "I've used a hidden dagger more than once myself. Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared for it? I'm not that easy to beat."

"You are," Uncle insisted. "It's you who's never been able to beat me."

"It's hardly been an even playing field until now," Laurent informed him. "But I'm not a child anymore. And I finally know what stakes we've really been playing for all this time, ever since the first time you made me beg you for something. Will you beg me for your life now?"

"I'm never going to kneel before _you_ ," Uncle spat.

"That doesn't bother me," Laurent said. He met Damen's eyes briefly. "I've had a real King kneel before me voluntarily. Having you do it would probably just dirty that memory. Die on your feet if you prefer."

Laurent's sword sank in one last time, between the grooves of Uncle's ribcage. He missed the heart, on purpose, but Laurent knew it would still be enough. 

There was a choking sound, and Uncle's lips quickly ringed red as he spasmodically coughed up at least some of the blood of his injury, while more blood ran down his front. His breath was rasping and wet. His eyes were wide with shock, as if he still hadn't thought, despite everything, that Laurent had the strength and the will to actually do it.

Laurent knew that feeling well. He hadn't thought Uncle would really try to kill him either. It turned out they'd both been wrong about each other.

Laurent allowed his uncle to collapse to the ground as his gasps turned short. He watched, satisfied, as they slowed to nothingness. Then Laurent looked away, and didn't have any intention of ever looking back.

It was done, finally. Laurent had far better things to worry about now.

Damen was covered in dirt and unsavoury fluids, most recently including still-wet trails of Uncle's blood. But even if Laurent hadn't himself been dirty from the tunnel into Chastillon and the hours spent sitting on the floor of a poorly maintained cell, he'd still have moved unerringly towards Damen then, uncaring of ruining his clothing.

Laurent pressed himself against Damen's much broader chest and buried his face in the space at Damen's throat, breathing in, smelling the core scent of him under all the rest of it. Damen clutched his arms tightly around Laurent, as if he intended to never let Laurent go again.

"Promise me you won't run off without me again," Damen said quietly.

Laurent huffed a laugh against his neck. "I promise I won't… unless it's to stop _you_ from doing something truly idiotic. Or unless I have a really good plan."

Damen sighed. "You're an idiot," he said. 

"Then apparently we're well-matched," responded Laurent.

"We are," Damen agreed, and Laurent heard a few very different words in his meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ding dong, the dick is dead. Everyone happy now? XD
> 
> Anyway, got to be honest with you all, the last chapter may not be out in two days. This is where I have to pay the piper for having to add an extra chapter last minute. I'm crazy busy packing up my house and getting ready to travel, among other things, and the chapter is only maybe a quarter written at this stage. Rest assured, it will be posted just as soon as possible, but if I can't get it done before I fly out, it could take as much as a week. Sorry!


	35. Chapter 35

Laurent was far from squeamish, but there was something eerie about being in the presence of this particular body. The air in the hallway was still but for two sets of breathing, neither of them belonging to Uncle, highlighting the finality of it even as it made everything seem more surreal.

Part of Laurent had difficulty shaking the bizarre notion that if he broke free of Damen’s arms and looked back over his shoulder, the body wouldn't be there at all. Laurent wouldn’t actually be surprised to learn that it had all been some dream or delusion; that he was even now trapped down in the cells, having given in to exhaustion after being unable to convince the men of Chastillon to help him. Or, far worse, that he might instead be still camped on the border somewhere near Ravenel, having never ridden into Akielos to meet Damen in the first place. Everything that had happened since then certainly did feel like it might have happened to someone else – perhaps someone luckier – even as it simultaneously had begun to feel like the truest thing in Laurent's life. 

He'd never have been able to imagine this future for himself back then, before that Akielon messenger had informed him that Prince Damianos requested a meeting. Now, on the other hand, he could barely recall what it had been like then, feeling almost wholly alone even in too-close quarters with hundreds of men. For all that he hadn’t let his doubts stop him, Laurent could admit now that he hadn’t really been able to see then how he could ever get his mostly Alpha soldiers to follow an untested Omega prince wholeheartedly. Or how, even if he could, they would ever be enough to counter the thousands Uncle could call upon. 

Now most among those thousands would belong to Laurent's army as well, just as soon as they swore their allegiance to him. Perhaps the strangest part of all this was that Laurent had little doubt anymore that they would do so, almost to a man. Laurent trusted that he could convince them, if they weren’t already there. 

He’d already done the hard part, after all. He’d finally achieved the one thing that he’d been vividly imagining for years, since well before he’d really come to believe that he could bring it about. And in doing so he’d even ended a civil war. The soldiers would fall under one banner now: the starburst, as it always should have been. 

There remained another conflict to be fought to the south, though, in a country that didn’t belong to Laurent, but which he would now fight for all the same. His brushes with civil war weren’t over quite yet, but the rest from here felt oddly inevitable.

Leaving Uncle behind for the last time, with Damen by his side, was both terrifying and satisfying because of what Laurent knew that step represented.

“You still smell like me,” Damen commented as they walked. Oddly, he sounded more like the thought of that calmed him, rather than that it made him feel pleased or possessive. 

“Yes, it will probably make it more difficult for any Alphas to take me seriously, but there’s no time to bathe.” Laurent glanced over at the wild picture Damen presented, covered in the blood of his enemies. Laurent imagined at least some of that had transferred onto him as well. He commented, “Though all told, when it comes to the impression we’ll be making, a scent is hardly the most pressing reason you or I might to want to wash up right now. And anyway, don’t try to tell me that your Alpha instincts aren't gratified that I didn't immediately wash every trace of you off me for once, and that I still can’t do so just yet."

"Perhaps, but what I actually meant was: I can tell no one else has touched you more than in passing, because you only smell like me. Like _us_." Damen sounded undeniably relieved. “As soon as I found out that you were inside the fortress, I started imagining all of the things that the Regent and his men could have been doing to you. I couldn’t... I couldn’t even think of anything else.”

Laurent recalled the similar endless stream of nightmares he’d had about how Damen might have died.

“I can never think clearly when it comes to you,” Laurent confessed. That was far more, and far more truthful, than what he would have said in months past. “But you needn’t have worried. Uncle didn't dare allow any Alphas near me in case they might fall prey to my 'Omega wiles'. And Uncle would have been ill at the thought of touching me himself now.”

“That might be reassuring if Alphas were the only ones willing to take what they’ve no right to.”

“Yes, I’m unfortunately all too aware that’s not the case.” So was Damen, clearly. “Though on a more positive note, nor are Alphas the only ones I’m able to influence when I put my mind to it, which Uncle found out to his detriment.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Damen said, almost sounding a little bit amused by that, when less than a minute ago his voice had seemed strained by a less positive emotion. “By the time I got here, you were already free and had your uncle on the run. If it were anyone but you, I wouldn’t have even believed it was possible to go from being an unarmed prisoner in a castle of enemies to _that_ in just a few hours.”

"Well, you know, I did tell you when we first met back in your camp that I could have freed myself without help if it came to that," Laurent reminded him.

"I think you’ll find that a room full of Veretian soldiers, even those who thought you a potential traitor, would have been a little more kindly disposed to the Prince of Vere than a camp of Akielon soldiers, at least as things stood back then. It would have been much harder to convince my men, whose Prince you’d just tried to kill, to just let you go,” commented Damen. 

"I still could have, given enough time. Pity I was short on that, or I’d have proved it," Laurent said, with the kind of surety that he hadn't had at the time, but which had come from months' worth of people being swayed more and more easily to Laurent's cause, and to Laurent himself, despite the odds.

Laurent particularly thought of Makedon, quicker to show his own peculiar brand of fondness towards Laurent than he was to show his respect for his own King, even though he clearly did feel the latter. 

Of the two of them, it seemed likely that it wouldn’t be Laurent who would have more difficulty winning over the people of the other's kingdom. 

Except probably, Laurent admitted, when it came to Nikandros, who might still be watching Laurent like a hawk, waiting for the day he’d turn on Damen after all, when they were all too old and wrinkled to be bothered with anything as tiring as backstabbing and intrigue anyway. That mental picture probably shouldn’t have pleased Laurent as much as it did. 

When the two of them finally arrived outside the audience hall, it was to find it now guarded by men from Laurent’s army, alongside those men of Chastillon who’d helped to let them inside the castle. There were also an array of wary-looking men whom Laurent didn’t recognise; clearly Uncle’s former men, drawn away from their orders to fight by their fellows letting them know that the real battle was already over. The fighting, it seemed, had come to an end. 

Their reaction at seeing Laurent unharmed, if otherwise appearing a little the worse for wear, was almost as unabashedly relieved as Damen had been, though none of _them_ followed that up by trying to hug Laurent as Damen had, thankfully. Enguerran did start towards him, a seemingly automatic action, as if unconsciously seeking some kind of contact just to assure himself that Laurent really was physically there, and alright. However, Enguerran appeared to catch himself immediately after that first little motion, and he settled for just sending a pleased look in Laurent’s direction. 

Laurent took the decision from Enguerran’s hands, closing the distance for him. Laurent clasped their arms together for just long enough to be adequate reassurance for both his Captain and his watching men. Damen shifted unhappily in place, but he didn’t growl or move in a physically threatening way as he usually would have whenever Laurent paid Enguerran particular attention. Either Damen was just that sure now where Laurent’s interests really rested, or he and Enguerran had finally come to some kind of accord while Laurent had been off infiltrating Chastillon without their help, when Enguerran had doubtless been trying to stop Damen from doing something foolish as a result. Either way, it was a welcome change. Things would be much easier if even they could get along. 

They weren’t the only ones who might have been at risk of clashing. In addition to Laurent’s people, there were more than a handful of Akielons also gathered outside the doors leading to where the Council and courtiers were camped out. There were some signs of tension between them and those Veretians who hadn’t already worked alongside the Akielons over the weeks and months prior. Mostly it was kept at bay, though, at least for now. 

And not every recent addition to Laurent’s side seemed bothered by having a rival nation walking freely inside the supposedly secure fortress closest to the capital. Lazar in particular looked to be too busy flirting with one of Damen’s more handsome and talented young Alpha soldiers to have potential violence on his mind. And it was clear that his appreciation wasn’t being rebuffed at all. 

Laurent looked from the two of them to Damen and allowed himself a tiny rueful expression. It could never really have been that easy between them, at least not on Laurent’s end, but it was interesting to imagine how, if Laurent hadn’t had cause to hate Damen beyond him being Akielon, their courtship - because yes, Laurent could finally admit that it had been worthy of that title for a while now, even if it wasn’t quite the traditional kind – might have looked very different.

Different, but not necessarily better, Laurent thought. They knew what they had now wasn’t just some flight of fancy, for it hadn’t just fallen into place for them. It was battle-tested, both figuratively and literally. Maybe the relationship was harder to swallow because of the past, both for Laurent initially and for his subjects now as well, but Laurent thought that made it all the more worth fighting for. 

Perhaps the best time for such a fight wasn't this exact moment, though. There was something to be said for the fact that someone had wisely stopped the Akielons from actually stepping across the threshold into a crowd of fearful Veretian nobility without at least having Laurent there to run interference. The soldiers out here could more or less handle themselves, if it came to it. The courtiers inside, though, would probably panic. The same would be even more true if it were Damen in particular who walked in, at least for now. 

“You should wait for me here,” Laurent decided. “It’s already going to be tense enough in there with a large military presence and a group of aristocrats who are potentially unhappy with the abrupt change in leadership. Introducing an apparent enemy into the mix will just destabilise whatever peace has been wrought. We can deal with establishing that you’re not actually the enemy later, when you’re not covered in the blood of the man many of these people were referring to as their King until very recently.”

Laurent waited for Damen to protest. He didn’t do so. 

Damen shrugged when Laurent looked surprised. “You made it obvious enough from the start that you’re not looking to be little more than a puppet on your own throne. This is your kingdom, and your people. If you think that’s best, I’m not about to try to override you.”

If Laurent had still had doubts about whether Damen might eventually try to settle himself into the typical Alpha role now that Laurent had finally given in to him and their togetherness was pretty much common knowledge, that helped to put it to rest. 

Laurent wrestled the smile attempting to take over his face into submission. It wouldn’t do to go before the Council looking anything less than sternly in control, never mind beaming, as he told them of Uncle’s fate. That probably wouldn’t go down well. 

“I’ll find you after,” Laurent said, the same promise that he wished he’d been able to make before leaving Damen alone in the tent this morning, when this long day had been barely breaking. 

The mood as Laurent swept into the hall, flanked by several of his most trusted from his Guard, who’d been waiting for their Prince to show up outside, was one of barely restrained hostility, as if Laurent had caught them all just taking a breath mid-argument. But practically everyone in the room perked up, in one way or another, when Laurent made his arrival known.

“Did the Regent evade you?” Councillor Mathe, Uncle’s newly-appointed man, asked when those who were gathered saw that Laurent stood before them alone. Mathe sounded slightly pleased at the thought. Laurent itched to call him out on it, but he knew little enough of the man’s appointment to the Council that he had nothing concrete to point to. Better, and more Veretian, to simply divert his efforts against Laurent for now and then undermine him over time until he’d fallen entirely from whatever position of power Uncle had promised him.

It helped that Laurent did have an easy way to shut him up in the short term. After all, anyone who had managed to rise so high in the Veretian court would surely know better than to visibly hitch himself to an already lost cause. 

“No,” Laurent answered him, “the former Regent didn’t get away. I’m returning alone because the Council’s judgement against my Uncle will have to be posthumous. His body will be displayed for the gathered armies and all of the people of Chastillon to see. If the Council wishes proof that he’s been sufficiently brought to justice, you may find it there. I refuse to let him darken the inside of these halls any longer than necessary.”

Laurent looked to Enguerran, who didn’t require an explicit order to set about making that happen. He said something quietly to Guymar and several other soldiers standing near to him, and those men immediately moved off, presumably to comply with their Captain’s, and their almost-King’s, demand for the former Regent to be dealt with in a manner befitting his treachery. Enguerran himself remained, purposely standing slightly behind Laurent, watching his blind spot and ready to call Laurent’s other soldiers to action if anyone actively lashed out over the Regent’s death. 

Laurent didn’t think it would be needed, though. 

“Does anyone here protest against me carrying out justice prior to the Council making an official ruling on my uncle’s guilt?” Laurent asked, just to clarify that.

“His guilt was clear, especially once he decided to run rather than offer any attempt at a defence,” Councillor Herode said. “And by running he gave you little choice of how to proceed from there.”

That wasn’t quite true. For once in his life, Laurent had actually had countless choices in that moment when he’d stumbled upon Uncle cornered and beaten by Damen. He hadn’t been forced into action against his better judgement. The Council probably guessed as much from Laurent’s evident lack of remorse. But if their choice was to stand by an obvious lie of their own devising to make this transition slightly easier, Laurent wasn’t about to contradict them. 

The rest of the impromptu meeting mostly involved dealing with the formalities that arose from Uncle’s death. The most important of those was Laurent appointing himself a new regent. No one argued Laurent’s right to choose for himself, even though usually that would have been beyond an heir apparent’s purview. They probably weren’t game to, lest Laurent simply decide to upend even more of their stability by calling for the laws about inheritance to be rewritten. 

There was something to be said for keeping some element of continuity for everyone to cling to right now, though. That was part of why Laurent appointed Herode, as the longest-serving council member, as Regent. The other reason was that Herode had clearly already accepted Laurent as de facto King, and was unlikely to do anything to unnecessarily get in the way of that. It was surely clear to all present that the Regent this time would be merely a figurehead to satisfy the legal requirements, not someone who would be exercising anything like the degree of unilateral control that the previous Regent had taken upon himself. 

Vannes, at least, would be pleased when she arrived inside Chastillon’s walls to find she’d been unexpectedly appointed to Herode’s now-vacant spot on the Council, Laurent's first appointment under his own steam, just as Laurent had sworn. Unlike Laurent himself, she didn’t even have to wait the seemingly endless months until Laurent reached his majority to attain her promised position. Knowing her, though, she’d probably half-heartedly grumble about him not naming her Regent while he was at it, as if they both weren’t aware of how badly that would go over with everyone else. 

Laurent would have to wait until things were more settled to replace the rest of the Council. Though he already had an idea of who would be taking Mathe’s place the first chance Laurent got.

The waiting would surely be made easier by the fact that Laurent would have plenty to occupy his attention in the meantime.

Damen seemed to be in the middle of a similar topic of thought, though to very different effect. Once they were shown to the chambers that had been set up for Laurent’s use, completely bypassing the rooms that the servants had set up for Damen without so much as a glance, Damen didn’t collapse against him, exhausted, or otherwise try to woo Laurent towards some ends other than sleep, if it turned out he had some energy left after all. Rather, he bestowed a serious look upon Laurent. 

“I ride for Ios just as soon as my men have had enough time to recuperate from the battle, and most of their injuries are healed enough to allow them to ride,” Damen informed him. “Those who are too badly off to be well in the next few days will have to remain behind, if you’ll allow us to impose upon your hospitality. On that note, while you were busy, I was informed that servants are already being dispatched to cater for the camp outside Chastillon, despite the size of my forces relative to the size of the castle’s stores. I hope you don’t have to impose rations on your own men to make up the difference.”

“They’ve lived through worse,” Laurent waved him off. “I promised your men the spoils of any victory they assisted me in, if you recall.” Laurent wasn’t about to go back on that now, when he now had a reason other than honour to keep faith with Damen. 

“Even so, you have my sincere thanks.”

It was odd, Laurent decided, for Damen to act so formally with him, especially in privacy. Even before they’d shared a bed, Damen had never quite acted in a way that was fitting of their respective positions. Being alone with Damen had been the only time and place that Laurent had been allowed to be both more and less than just a prince for years. 

Laurent was willing to sacrifice a lot for his country, whether he was its ruler or not, but he wasn’t quite willing to give up that closeness unless absolutely necessary. Not now that he’d finally found it after years of not knowing what he was missing.

“Don’t do that,” Laurent said. “Don’t act like you’re preparing for this to be goodbye.”

Damen looked reluctant, and yet resolved. “Shouldn’t I be? Now that one of the men who engineered my father’s death has been delivered to justice, the men will quickly grow restless to return to Akielos to deal with the remaining perpetrator who’s much closer to home for all of us. I want to do so as well, for that matter; as quickly as possible. The situation in my country will only worsen the longer it’s allowed to remain unchallenged. And these men might refer to me as their King, but it’s wishful thinking as long as my brother sits on the throne. He has much to answer for. The truth of his actions must be revealed as soon as possible. I can’t stay.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t go, and soon,” Laurent countered. “But the fact that you clearly think that the best way to deal with your traitor brother is to have a conversation with him rather proves my point; you won’t be leaving me behind when you ride for Ios.”

“You have a kingdom of your own to rule now,” Damen pointed out. “You can’t abandon it so soon after winning it.”

“I don’t, in fact, have a country to rule until I’m twenty-one,” countered Laurent. “And I’m not abandoning it, so much as ruling from a distance, which is all I’d be able to do even from inside Arles itself until my majority. Herode can be trusted to carry out my specifications fairly exactly in my absence, as long as I don’t ask for anything too ridiculous. And Vannes will raise hell if he doesn’t. 

“So, I think we can manage to reclaim Akielos well before I'm really needed here, months from now when I have to return for my ascension. Don’t you?”

“Not necessarily. It isn’t a guarantee that it will go quickly,” Damen warned. “My brother is many things, but he’s not one to give up without a fight if he can help it.”

“No?” Laurent said, sceptical. “It seems to me that he did everything in his power to avoid having to go directly up against any real opposition. Even now, you give him more credit than he’s due.”

It was Damen’s turn to appear unconvinced. “Even if that’s so, it won’t just be my brother we’re up against. There are countless bannermen in the south who would probably prefer to see him on the throne, especially now that it’s known that they chose him over me in the first place. They’d risk losing a lot to go back on that decision now that their loyalties are already obvious.”

Laurent’s lips quirked. “You know, I’ve found it does wonders for changing the allegiance of stubborn men if you point out that the current ruler killed his predecessor. You told me once that your people loved your father almost as much as mine loved Auguste. His cold-blooded murder won’t be quickly forgiven.”

“There’s still no proof of it,” Damen sighed. That, Laurent thought, was precisely what had allowed Damen to maintain his own doubts and fruitless hopes for a familial reconciliation, despite everything. But Laurent thought he might be able to do something about that now. 

“Oh, I think we can rummage some proof up,” Laurent said, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world. “In fact, I believe I have a witness already in my custody, and the means to make that witness talk also conveniently at hand. We’ll simply have to swing past Fortaine on the way.”

Damen didn’t even ask who it was. He probably thought he knew. Laurent doubted his guess was right, though. 

“My people won’t easily believe the word of any Veretian,” Damen warned. “And even if Kastor isn’t quite shrewd enough to be able to argue his way out of whatever evidence they can provide, I assure you that Jokaste will be able to do so on his behalf. She has a tongue almost as sharp as yours and, it would seem, possibly even less compunction about using it.”

“But does she wield a sword as well as I do?” Laurent asked wryly. “If not, and if her sense of self-preservation is as attuned as I suspect, she won’t even be in Arles when we arrive. You might have noticed that between us we now have an army that might eclipse even the forces of the Vaskian Empire. When they see us coming, with you leading the charge, anyone as intelligent as that will either flee to escape execution if they had a more active role in your brother’s coup, or else will scurry to your side acting as if they never broke trust at all. And Kastor himself, if he even has the stomach to remain in Ios and face you instead of taking the nearest ship and sailing across the ocean, will be quick to fall without my uncle's soldiers to back him. In fact, I’m informed that there are many men of Vere still in place inside Ios. That should make things very simple. As I’ve demonstrated more than once recently, it only takes a couple of inside men to topple a castle, if you plan these things right.”

Damen went to say something and then stopped, thinking better of it. Instead, he acknowledged, “You know, this isn’t how I thought things would go once your uncle was dealt with. Part of me keeps expecting that, now that you don’t need the alliance anymore, you'll give me that warning and thrust a sword into my hand. I know you wanted a fight at the end of all this."

Laurent's breath left him in a slow sigh. He’d promised both Damen and himself as much. It had been the only way Laurent had at first been able to stomach the thought of working side-by-side with the one person he had despised more than Uncle. 

Things had changed so much since then. Laurent had changed, as had his perceptions.

Knowing what he knew now, Laurent thought Auguste wouldn’t be displeased if his killer was allowed to live, with his brother, together. 

"We did fight," Laurent finally conceded. "It just happened to be by each other's sides instead of at each other's throats. And if Kastor does resist, we'll fight that way again. And anyway, as it turns out, I now have too much of a vested interest in keeping you alive to go about trying to kill you myself," Laurent added.

Damen was shocked into laughter. "That's the strangest way anyone's ever told me they have feelings for me."

Laurent shrugged. "Apparently you told me by handing me an army. I'm telling you by suggesting that my army is now at your disposal as well. It sounds to me like we're even."

"It would make me so happy if you would stop keeping score between us now," Damen said.

“And I do live to make you happy,” Laurent replied, though it didn’t come out even half as sardonic as he’d meant it to. "Regardless, I lost track of the score a while back anyway," Laurent admitted. 

Damen nodded. "Good. I'd rather you not resent it every time I save your life from here on out."

"What makes you think there'll ever be a next time for that?" Laurent asked. 

"Because your plans are insane," Damen said. "And one day they're not going to work out the way you want. That's already happened, the day we met. You wanted me dead, remember?”

"I remember,” Laurent replied. “But now it turns out that I got what I really wanted and needed that day, even if I didn't know it then. See, even when my plans don't seem to work out, they're still perfect."

"You're impossible."

“That’s part of my charm,” Laurent claimed. 

He hadn’t been serious, but Damen was as he said, “Yes, it is. Impossible, and perfect, and mine.”

Laurent scoffed at the overt Alpha possessiveness, even as part of him was secretly pleased by it. “Ha,” Laurent said, “if anything, you’re mine.”

Damen smiled, as if Laurent had understood what he’d really been saying perfectly. “Always,” he promised. 

He was tall enough that when their bodies moved so they were entirely aligned, his kiss ended up falling against Laurent’s forehead rather than his lips. 

With Damen’s body flush up against him, his lips tender on Laurent’s skin while Laurent’s own lips brushed under Damen’s jawline alongside one of the main sources of that Alpha smell that Laurent had come to crave rather than hate, Laurent found that he really didn’t mind restraining himself to the unexpected but not unwelcome quiet simplicity of this moment. For now. 

They had all the time in the world for everything else. For now, this was already more than he’d ever dreamed of. And it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *collapses*
> 
> So we’re finally at the end. Sort of. 175K words, more than 500 comment threads, coming up on 1000 kudos (crossed fingers), and I’m still not quite finished with this verse. 
> 
> I promised the main fic wouldn’t have more endings than LotR (she says after writing the world’s most drawn out fic), and by god I stuck to my word on that even though it was painful to keep the last chapter relatively short, but it does mean that I've also written the majority of this thing where they went to Arles that I didn’t include because it didn’t feel like the right place to end it, so expect to see that as a separate little ficlet at some point soon-ish. And then there will also be the somewhat longer (but still waaayyyy shorter than this) follow-up fic I’ve been promising, which will be along the lines of a 5 Times fic. As in, 5 Times Laurent Agreed to Let Damen Share His Heat. But it will not be 100% PWP, no matter how it sounds (though there will definitely be smut). 
> 
> I deliberately set out to write this in the style of CP canon, so it’s only fitting that there will be some short stories, right? 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to all of you who came on this ride with me, whether you’ve been here since the start or just jumped on board. If you made it to the end, you’re basically a hero in my books, because this sucker is long, and that’s some serious commitment! Lots of love to you all, and I really won’t complain if you want to drop one last comment to let me know what you thought overall. ;)


End file.
